


Tumblr Ficlets

by frankchurchillsaysrelax



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-01-05 23:52:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 26,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18376649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frankchurchillsaysrelax/pseuds/frankchurchillsaysrelax
Summary: An archive of prompts and shorter ficlets originally posted over on my tumblr.





	1. why you can’t raise your voice to say

**Author's Note:**

> I imagine this happening some night before the drive-in but honestly I think it could happen at any point.

“What’s the deal with you and Max anyway?” Alex’s voice travels the short distance between them.

 

With no moon in the sky the trailer is cloaked in darkness but the warmth of Alex’s body next to him is a reminder that he isn’t alone. They are close enough on his tiny bed that he can smell the sweat on his skin and feel the slow puffs of breath against his shoulder.

 

“What do you mean?” Michael can feel his defenses rising, unsure of where this conversation is headed.

 

“I  _mean_ ,” he sounds confused, searching for the right words that won’t set Michael off. “You make it seem like you hate him but you still drop everything to go and help him. No hesitation. Is it for Isobel?” Alex absently drags a finger across his chest and Michael lets it distract him for a minute. The easy movement calms him, makes him feel safe.

 

“It’s complicated.”

 

Silence falls over them as Alex patiently waits to see if Michael will offer anything else. He knows from experience that pushing him to talk never gets them anywhere.

 

“How much do you know about the three of us?”

 

“Nothing really.” The sheets rustle as Alex presses closer against his side and wraps his arm firmly across his waist. Michael holds himself tense even though his body is screaming to melt into the comfort he is being offered. “You three were always together, as long as I can remember.”

 

“We’re siblings. Not by blood,” he clarifies before Alex can say anything. “but we’re— we come from the same place. We grew up together.” He struggles for how to explain his family without giving away too much. He wishes, not for the first time, that he could tell him everything. Life would be so much easier with less secrets.

 

“We ended up in a group home and when the Evans came looking to adopt they only wanted two. They never even looked at me.” Memories of that day twenty years ago flood his mind. His body finally gives up the fight and leans fully into Alex’s hold. A kiss is pressed to his temple; lips linger against his hair. He hates that such a simple gesture makes him want to curl up and cry.

 

“So you blame Max?” Alex finally asks.

 

“No!” The word is practically a hiss. “Never. They didn’t have a choice. If they could have taken me with them they would have. And I knew they would be safe so I told them to go.”

 

_“I’ll find a family too. Maybe we’ll be neighbors! Don’t cry Izzy, we’ll see each other soon.”_

 

“Few months later, I got a foster family. And then another. And another, again and again. Sometimes I’d be placed in a different district but I’d always manage to get myself kicked out of those quick.”

 

A small noise of recognition escapes Alex. As if another piece of the puzzle that is Michael Guerin has found its home. No doubt he remembers all the times Michael would disappear from school for a few weeks.

 

“You always came back.”

 

“Yeah. Then freshman year I got emancipated. Perk of being a genius I guess, they think you’ll be able to look after yourself.” Michael’s body subconsciously curls further into Alex’s arms. He suddenly feels unbearably tired. His heart feels tired. It beats slow and heavy inside his chest.

 

“None of that answers my question.”

 

It’s a few minutes before he can gather the energy to keep talking.

 

“Max and I used to be close. He was my best friend. And then….”

 

_“Never be extraordinary.”_

_  
“She might not remember but that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. It’s done Michael. We can’t leave her now.”_

_  
“What are you doing? Roswell isn’t a prison, you could be doing so much more with your life.”_

 

“Like I said, it’s complicated.” 


	2. 1x06 first tool shed moment coda

He knows he should probably leave, head back up to his house to lick his wounds. But Alex has never been the type of person to walk away from his problems. 

 

Guerin isn’t throwing any punches so he can’t be too upset by Alex’s epic misreading of the situation. Instead he seems lost in the music he’s making, a song Alex doesn’t recognize but played with deft fingers and sure strumming. The change he’d spoken of is visibly taking over  his face with eyes closed and jaw unclenched, and in his body by the peaceful way he sways to the melody enveloping them. 

 

The song ends and Michael’s eyes flutter open as he hugs the guitar closer to his chest as if it were something precious. 

 

“You’re really good.”

 

He regrets speaking as the tension briefly bleeds back into Michael’s body until he breathes out a gust of air and a whispered  _ thanks _ .

 

“What song is that?” Alex asks softly. He’s determined to turn this conversation around even if he’s unsure why it matters so much to him. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard it.” 

 

“Oh, no, uh it’s just something I made up.” Michael keeps his eyes focused on the guitar, his fingers beginning to lightly strum the rhythm again. 

 

Alex’s eyebrows raise, impressed. “You write your own songs?”

 

“Yeah, well no. I don’t have any words I just play whatever I hear in my head. The music just takes over the noise and my hands just play it.” He glances over in Alex’s direction which he’s taking as a small win. 

 

“I’m planning on going out to LA after graduation,” Alex offers softly. He hasn’t told anyone besides Liz and Maria and even they don’t know he’s ready to go as soon as the caps fly in the air. “I don’t have my own songs but I sing and I play so I don’t know, maybe I’ll find a group to join. Or who knows maybe I’ll just play covers in bars and live in a shoebox.” 

 

Michael has turned fully towards him again and he’s grinning which Alex decides is a much larger win. 

 

“Sounds like you could use a writer.” 

 

“You offering, Guerin?” 

 

Michael’s grin slides into a smirk that draws Alex’s gaze directly to his mouth before he can stop himself. His tongue peaking out to wet his lips breaks the spell and Alex glances up to see that he’s made him uncomfortable again. 

 

It’s his turn to look away. His fingers pull at the sleeves of his sweater and he can feel the blood rushing to his cheeks. “It’s getting late.” His voice is lower than he’d intended. He stands abruptly and wills his body to control itself until he can get away from this straight boy without ruining the tentative friendship they’re building.

 

“Oh, right, I’ll get out of your hair.” Michael sets the guitar on the bed before reaching for his bag.

 

“No!” Alex shouts, startling them both. He really should have left earlier when he was facing only mild embarrassment. “No, you stay here. It really is cold tonight.” 

 

He walks to the door but turns to look at him once more. Michael still stands there with his bag in his hands looking ready to flee. Alex hopes that he stays, that he hasn’t ruined this safe space for him.

 

“See ya, Guerin.” 

 

“Goodnight Alex.”


	3. “Take it – I don’t care. Take it all!”

_ I know you’re down there please let me in _

 

Michael tries not to let the wave of hope drown his heart as he reads Alex’s text. Although the words are nonthreatening, the tone not demanding, every instinct tells him to pretend he’s not there. To wait it out until Alex turns around and leaves yet again. To make this as difficult as possible and leave him with no other choice than to force his way in and drag Michael out.

 

But Michael’s heart had surrendered to Alex a long time ago and so he succumbs to hope.

 

The familiar sound of the trailer shifting overhead does nothing to cover the sudden overwhelming pounding of his heart. He takes a deep breath and goes to stand behind the table in the center of the room before opening the hatch, effectively removing all barriers between him and the outside world. He tries to match his heartbeat to the slow and easy rhythm of Alex’s steps down the ladder.

 

Michael doesn’t know whether to cry or laugh when he finally sees Alex standing there in his uniform. He’d given over all the power to destroy him but he never actually believed it would lead them to this moment.

 

“You here to arrest me, Sergeant?” 

 

Alex scans the bunker with a look of barely concealed horror on his face. “Guerin, what did you do?”

 

Michael follows his gaze to the shattered pieces of the console strewn across the room. The low lighting catches the glowing pieces making them glitter like sea glass against the torn pages of a lifetime’s effort to discover who he is. 

 

“Take it - I don’t care.” He holds his arms out to indicate everything surrounding them, every last piece of his soul that remained even if no longer intact. “Take it all!”

 

Alex is staring at him with large, tear filled eyes looking almost scared. He has no right to be afraid as far as Michael is concerned. He has no intention of harming him but every ounce of Michael’s rage Alex has brought upon himself.

 

“I trusted you!” Tears roll down his cheeks and spit slides down his chin, but he makes no move to wipe away the physicals markers of his torment. “And this is what you do to me, to us, to  _ them _ .”

 

Images he’s been trying in vain to stymie now come rushing back, permanently burned onto his mind and causing so much pain that he falls to his knees. The vast white walls, the smell of burning flesh and blood in the otherwise sterile space, and the sound of surgical tools cutting and clanking as someone restrains him, his arms held tightly behind his back and forced to watch every step of the process. And when it’s done, the sight of Max and Isobel cold and pale on metal slabs, their chests carved open and hollow is what will stay with him the longest.

 

Screams are torn from Michael until he feels he might choke on them and put himself out of his misery before Alex can lead him to his same gruesome fate. Through the pain and grief something tethers him to the bunker; strong arms shaking but holding him close to something warm and firm and a voice calling his name slowly getting louder and clearer.

 

“Michael, please, please listen to me.” Alex’s face floats in front of him, calling him back down to earth, always keeping him here on this godforsaken planet. He’s crying, nothing but concern visible as he watches him closely waiting to be sure he has his attention. 

 

His thumbs brush tears from Michael’s cheek, his touch so gentle it causes the ebbing hope to rise. Cradled between Alex’s legs on the bunker floor, Michael tries to put some distance between them but Alex shifts until his hands are resting on either side of his face, fingers digging into his curls and pulling him close.

 

“Listen to me,” he makes soft, soothing sounds until Michael calms and his eyes focus on Alex. “Max and Isobel are alive. They’re back at the hospital waiting for you. Someone is in your head Michael, but Liz is trying to figure it out. I just need you to come with me.” 

 

Michael’s whole body begins to tremble as he stares desperately at Alex’s face looking for any signs of deception. He wants to believe him more than anything but flashes of his brother and sister dead only a few feet away, so fixed in his memory, war with the open and loving gaze of the person he trusts more than anyone else in the universe.

 

Alex reluctantly moves away and stands holding a hand out to Michael, a silent request. He looks between the hand and his pleading face knowing that if he just keeps his eyes on Alex he will believe him, but still unsure if he should.

 

“Just come with me and we’ll get to the bottom of this, I promise.”


	4. “I’m surrendering myself to you; body and soul. What more do you want?”

“I didn’t wake you did I?” Alex doesn’t know why he’s whispering. The room is disturbingly quiet without Michael and the sleepy mumbling he’s grown fond of beside him. 

 

“Nah, can’t sleep.” There is shuffling on the other side and a few moments later Alex hears the soft click of a door. “Sorry, didn’t want to wake Is. Why are you still up?”

 

Alex releases a surprised laugh. “She was serious about sharing a bed?”

 

“Yes,” Michael huffs. Alex can picture the pout he’s positive has taken over Michael’s face and it only makes him miss him more. “She says I can’t be trusted because,  _ you have poor impulse control, Michael _ .” 

 

“Who, you?” he deadpans. “No idea what she’s talking about, Guerin.” 

 

Michael makes an overly dramatic sound of protest. “You seem to enjoy my impulses most of the time, Private. Besides, after everything we’ve been through don’t you think we’re past silly superstitions like this? I could climb out the window and be home in twenty minutes.” 

 

His voice is so smooth and tempting, all Alex wants to do is say yes. He shifts closer toward Michael’s side of the bed imagining the warmth that usually occupies the space.

 

“Behave. It’s only one night, just let your sister have her traditions.” He tries to sound confident. Any signs of weakness and Michael will press until he caves. Alex doesn’t want to have to deal with Isobel if that happens.

 

Michael snorts. “Since when have we ever been traditional?”

 

They don’t speak for another several minutes, each of them content to just listen to the other breathe. Alex thinks he might actually be able to fall asleep like this.

 

“Hey, guess what?” Michael’s soft voice blows away the hazy feeling clouding his mind.

 

“Hmm?”

 

“We’re getting married tomorrow.” Alex grins into his pillow, Michael’s excitement contagious.

 

“I know.” He can’t conceal the awe he feels at that simple fact. “I can’t wait to marry you.”

 

Michael hums, a happy little sound that Alex never wants to stop hearing. He never wants to stop being the cause of Michael Guerin’s happiness.

 

Alex yawns, loud and abrupt in their shared silence. 

 

“Alright, Manes.” Michael slips into that mocking military voice he thinks is cute. “Time for bed.”

 

“Wait,” he props himself up with an elbow reminded of his reason for calling in the first place. “I have a favor to ask.”

 

“I’m surrendering myself to you; body and soul,” Michael teases. “What more do you want?”

 

“It’s more of a request than a favor.” Alex ignores him. He feels inexplicably nervous all of a sudden. “I was talking to Maria earlier and I realized there’s an important detail about tomorrow that we’ve never discussed.”

 

“What’s that?” Michael asks, wary at the serious shift the conversation has taken.

 

“I want to take your last name,” he confesses. “If you’ll let me?”

 

Michael is quiet for a long time. Alex regrets not waiting until they were together so he could watch his thoughts play out across his face. Michael doesn’t always have words to describe how he’s feeling but these days Alex can understand him with a single look.

 

“Are you sure?” Michael’s voice falters and he sniffs like he’s holding back tears. Alex really wishes he was there with him now. “I know your family has a lot of baggage, but the name comes with a lot of history too. It’s a legacy you’ve worked so hard to change, Alex.” He pauses and exhales a shuddering sigh. “Guerin doesn’t mean anything.” 

 

Alex’s heart breaks a little at how much he seems to truly believe that. 

 

“Guerin means a lot to me,” he affirms. “It’s the name of the strongest person I know. The person with the biggest heart I’ve ever seen. I’m proud that I could bring something to the Manes name, but I want to build a future, a family, with you and I would be honored to call myself a Guerin. That alright with you?”

 

“Ok,” Michael agrees, voice thick with emotion. Alex doesn’t push him for anything more.

 

“I love you.” He settles back against his pillow reaching one arm out to caress Michael’s side of the bed, pretending it was decidedly less empty.

 

“Love you too,” Michael whispers. “Get some sleep, I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll be the one in the cowboy hat.”

 

Alex’s breath hitches and he feels embarrassingly warm. “You’re wearing the hat?”

 

Michael laughs quietly. “Night, Guerin.”


	5. “Please, just… touch me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This somehow turned into a companion to the monster that is “Take it – I don’t care. Take it all!” I’m sorry.

The love of your life being quarantined while an unknown alien lifeform controls his mind should really fall under its own category of leave. Alex is going to write the US government and tell them to get on that. 

 

For now he has to continue going to work and act like nothing is wrong. Keeping up appearances is exhausting but Alex is doing the best he can in this impossible situation. 

 

Liz is no closer to working out a solution and every time an idea falls through and she says she wishes Michael could help, the rage consuming Alex spreads. Michael is always the one protecting them, they owe it to him to figure this out. It’s their turn to save him.

 

Since he was seventeen years old, Alex had hopelessly dreamed of a future where he could come home to Michael Guerin every night. So like every other aspect of their relationship, the universe has made it come true in the most twisted way possible. 

 

He parks next to Max’s truck in front of the cabin and allows himself a moment to just breathe. He has to be brave now, something he’s learned over the last year comes naturally to him, except when it comes to Michael. 

 

There is no room for bravery when you feel everything else so exquisitely.

 

Knowing he can’t keep Max waiting much longer he gets out of the car and marches toward whatever awaits him behind his front door. 

 

After he’d brought him back to the hospital it was decided that it would be safer for Michael to be kept somewhere more discreet. A hidden bunker in a secluded hunting cabin seemed like just the thing. Every precaution was taken. A barricade made of old furniture covers the trap door, a diluted version of Liz’s serum administered once a day making it impossible for Michael to lift the heavy objects.

 

The group takes turns watching him during the day and Alex has nights. He got the raw end of that deal if you ask him. Sleep doesn’t come easy when someone you love is suffering right below your feet. So close but just out of reach, as it has always been with them it seems.

 

Max is on the couch reading, something Alex has grown accustomed to seeing over the past couple weeks. He stands when Alex walks through the door, eager to be far away from the temporary prison they’ve built. 

 

“How is he?” Alex asks same as every day.

 

Max stares at the pile of junk sitting in the middle of the living room floor stoically. “Quiet. I think he’s slept most of the day. He wouldn’t eat when I brought his lunch down.” Alex nods, his worry rising. “Oh, and Liz says her latest experiment is making progress, which is good.” Max tries to sound supportive of his girlfriend but they both know better than to get their hopes up at this point.

 

“Cam and Kyle make any progress on tracking this guy?” The answer is obvious by the look on his face but they’ve followed this script every other day so why deviate.

 

“They haven’t found anything new,” he confirms. “I’m going there now so Kyle can get to the hospital.”

 

They stand in awkward silence and Alex really just wants to throw him out of his house but Max isn’t done. 

 

“Look,” Alex steels himself for what he knows is coming next. “The pod is still our best option.”

 

“No.” Alex doesn’t have patience to listen to the entire sales pitch tonight. 

 

Max’s face hardens and he crosses his arms with an air of authority. Jokes on him though because Alex can handle a military standoff any day. Stubborn Manes blood is good for something after all.

 

“Alex this isn’t just your decision to make,” Max barks.

 

“It’s not my decision at all! It’s his. I don’t know if it’s him, or the fourth, or fucking Pazuzu, Michael said he doesn’t want to go into stasis and we are going to respect that decision.” 

 

Max opens his mouth to argue so Alex steps around him and opens the front door beyond finished with this conversation. Max walks outside but shakes his head with something resembling disgust. Not as cruel as the looks he got in high school but enough to make him snap. 

 

“Hey!” He follows Max out into the yard. “Do you think it’s not killing me to see him like this? All I want is to offer him some peace but I’m not going to force anything else on him. So until he says that’s what he wants, we aren’t taking him anywhere.”

 

The fight drains from Max leaving a sad, broken cowboy in its wake. He nods his head, defeated, and gets into his truck without another word. 

 

Alex goes back inside and heads straight for the shower. He takes his time letting the tears fall down his face mixing with the water streaming over him leaving no trace behind. 

 

He dresses hastily and goes to the kitchen to reheat some pasta dish Isobel swore was Michael’s favorite. Once it’s ready he makes quick work of clearing the trap door and climbing down the ladder.

 

The room is dark and barren. All that’s left of Jim Valenti’s makeshift rehab is a bed and a lamp, the rest having been cleared away to ensure Michael didn’t hurt himself. The first night and entire next day he did nothing but scream and beg them to let him out. The false memories were still fresh in his mind and, they learned later, new ones were taking root. None as harrowing as the vivisection but each with the intended purpose of turning Michael’s mind against them. 

 

The next morning Alex had come downstairs to find the walls covered in the alien symbol and Michael curled up in the corner of the room just staring at them. Ever since then he mostly just slept, a possible side effect of the serum according to Liz. 

 

Alex sets both plates on the bed before turning on the light and gently calling Michael’s name. Every shred of his being longs to reach out and soothe him to wakefulness. To lay gentle kisses on his skin and whisper his name against his lips until Michael comes alive beneath him and reciprocates with as much enthusiasm as ever. That isn’t an option now. Michael can’t stand any level of physical contact, not even from Isobel. Alex is too afraid to try.

 

He comes as close as he dares and continues to call Michael’s name until warm hazel eyes blink back at him. He steps back and grabs the plates, offering one to Michael who shakes his head.

 

“You need to eat, Guerin. Just a few bites at least.” Michael pushes himself into a sitting position and accepts the plate cradling it in his lap. Alex waits until he picks up his fork before walking to the foot of the bed and sitting down to dig into his own meal.

 

After a few tentative bites, Michael relaxes and eats until his plate is empty. He sets it on the floor and curls onto his side just watching him. Alex sets his own plate down before walking to the mini fridge on the far side of the room that they had stocked with water. He passes a bottle to Michael who drains the whole thing in two easy gulps. Alex doesn’t want to know how long it’s been since he last drank something. 

 

Michael flips over to face the other side of the room and Alex is torn between staying and taking the obvious dismissal for what it is. 

 

“I want to be home.”

 

Alex’s face pinches with pain at the words and he has to force a deep breath into his lungs. “I know.”

 

He doesn’t. Home can mean a few things to Michael from the junkyard to the stars. It could also mean the pod.

 

“So, please, just… touch me.” 

 

“What?” Alex must be hallucinating. Either that or the fourth alien has progressed to using Michael to torture Alex.

 

“When you touch me it feels like home.” Michael still won’t face him. “You still make me feel safe Alex. You make everything quiet.”

 

Trap or not, Alex can’t refuse them both this seemingly small comfort. Approaching slowly, he lies down behind Michael easily moving them until Michael’s back is snug against his chest, his good leg trapped between both of Michael’s. They each melt into the other’s hold. 

 

Alex is reminded of the console and the words Michael said when he first showed him. 

 

_ “The pieces wanna be together. When they fit the molecules knit together on contact. It’s like it was never broken at all.” _

 

When he closes his eyes he sees the console as it is now, nothing but broken shards torn apart beyond repair and abandoned in a sea of destruction. 

 

Pressing kisses to the back of Michael’s neck he vows to not let that happen again.


	6. “Everything you think I need isn’t what I need. What I need is you.”

A person’s pain tolerance is supposed to directly correlate to their strength. That was one of his father’s favorite excuses at least. 

 

_ “If you’re going to be strong enough to survive this world, son, you’ll need to learn to handle a little pain.” _

 

For everything Alex has been through, all that he’s survived, he should be far stronger than he feels in this moment. He hears Michael yelling his name from below ground but he keeps moving forward, desperate to get to his car and escape. When faced with the options of fight or flight he would always choose flight when Michael Guerin is involved. 

 

He unlocks the car and tugs on the handle only to hear the lock switch back into place. He tries again and gets the same result. 

 

“What happened to being tired of walking away, huh?” Alex tries the door for a third time but Michael is once again faster.

 

Alex turns slowly and finds Michael farther away than expected, standing by the fire pit with the final piece of the console still clutched in his hand. The wind blows his curls, leaving them as untamed yet beautiful as the man himself. Alex wonders if there will ever be a time where he can look at Michael without assuming it’s going to be the last time. Although he knows that sentiment has never been more true.

 

“Just let me go, Guerin,” he pleads. 

 

He had hoped to be far away before allowing himself the freedom to cry but he doesn’t bother holding back now. He’s felt his heart break before, many times in situations identical to this. It’s different now. Instead of breaking, his heart is clawing its way through his chest, longing to stay behind where it belongs.

 

“You always gotta have the last word, don’t you? Always have to be the one who walks away. You can never just stay and and give me a chance or listen to what I have to say.” Michael stalks forward as he speaks until he’s standing directly in front of him. 

 

“Not this time, Alex.” He glances down at the missing piece to a lifelong puzzle. “You think this is my answer? You’ve never even asked me what the goddamn question is. But you’re gonna listen now, got it?”

 

He hasn’t left Alex with many other options. He nods.

 

Michael reaches out with his left hand to wipe the tears from his cheeks and Alex loses himself in the simple brush of fingers on his skin, letting Michael’s touch calm him as it always has. Even when they ignite a fire in his blood that leaves him feeling electric, Michael’s hands have always had the ability to allay the fear and turmoil that has taken permanent residence in his veins. 

 

“I’ve been working on this since I found the first fragment when I was fourteen years old. I was in the desert after running away from my foster dad and I threw my sleeping bag directly on top of the damn thing.” This is the most Michael has ever shared at once and Alex is captivated even if he knows it’s leading to things he doesn’t want to hear. 

 

“I didn’t have a clue what it was, but when I held it, it was like I knew that it was ours and that someday it was gonna get me home. Somewhere that I could have a family who loved and accepted me, where I’d finally feel like I belonged.”

 

Alex can’t stop the ugly, painful sob that shakes him. He doesn’t know how much more of this he can take. The permanence of Michael’s choice weighs heavy on his entire being threatening to crush him. 

 

Michael sets the shard on the roof of the car, freeing his hands to reach up and cup Alex’s face. He looks like he wants to move closer but keeps the distance between them and only offers this small token of comfort.

 

“And then you came along, Alex.” Their eyes lock and Alex is frozen, unable to look away or breathe at the sudden infusion of hope that Michael’s watery eyes offer. 

 

“You showed me that I could have all of that here, that I wasn’t nothing.” Matching tears mirror their way down his cheeks and Alex brings shaking hands up to either side of Michael’s neck in comfort. “Everything you think I need isn’t what I need. What I need is you.”

 

Insecurity so deeply rooted inside of him that it grows like ivy tangled with his very soul tries to tell him that this is too good to be true. He can’t be enough to keep Michael tethered to this planet. He does his best to banish it and listen to what else Michael has to say.

 

“The ship became a way to keep my family safe. As soon as Rosa died I knew there might come a time when we’d need an escape plan.” His voice is rough yet filled with so much wonder and love it leaves Alex feeling dizzy. “That’s what you’ve given me, guaranteed safety. That’s what you have always given me.” 

 

Michael can’t resist the ever present pull between them anymore it seems as he drags Alex toward him and into a bruising kiss. Alex leans into him, immediately shifting his hands to the back of Michael’s head and biting at his lips until Michael’s mouth opens on a gasp. They give themselves over to the familiar intimacy of hands and mouths, an insatiable need that lingers deep in their bones always awoken with a single touch. Alex lets their physical connection consume him while his brain works to process the kindness of Michael’s words. 

 

Michael’s hands move to his chest and push gently before they can get carried away.

 

Alex leans his forehead easily against Michael’s, taking comfort in the warm breath that fans against his cheeks and the soft texture of wild curls still clutched in his hands. Michael is here. He’s right here and he says he isn’t going to leave. And yet.

 

“I want to believe you, but I don’t think I know how to do that,” he admits, ashamed but more honest than he’s ever been in his life. 

 

“I know.” Michael nods and Alex knows that if anyone were to understand it would be him.

 

“I want to work on that though.”

 

A warm smile brightens Michael’s face. “Good.” After a moment he pulls away, putting a friendly amount of distance between them. “While you do, can we promise to be honest with each other?” His brow furrows and he bites absently at his bottom lip like he’s afraid Alex will say no. “I meant what I said about being sick of secrets. I don’t know if I can just be your friend, but I liked your idea about getting to know each other better.”

 

Alex shoves his hands in his pockets to keep himself from doing something stupid like dragging Michael’s kiss swollen lips back to his. An impetuous act which would contradict everything they’re promising each other. “I’d really like that.”

 

Michael takes a step backwards and reaches for the accursed piece of console before offering it to Alex without hesitation. “I want you to know you’re safe with me too. Hold onto this for me and only give it back when you feel like you can trust me.” 

 

Alex holds it carefully like something precious, running his fingers across the surface and watching the colors dance. “I don’t know how long that might be.”

 

“That’s fine,” Michael shoots back easily, cowboy swagger falling back in place. “I’m not going anywhere.”


	7. “That’s so stupid. Please, do it again.”

Being friends, real friends, with Michael was like meeting a completely different person. 

 

In lieu of clandestine hookups in the airstream there were Saturday afternoons spent talking while combing the junkyard for spare parts and lunches at The Crashdown with Liz and Maria. Behind the sarcasm and closed off bad boy facade is a man who is genuinely funny and a little self deprecating, who offers his help freely, and always answers the phone for a friend. 

 

A Guerin with his defenses lowered will talk your ear off about thermodynamics and quote scientific journals even though he knows you won’t understand. He knows almost nothing about pop culture and listens to NPR and classic rock stations exclusively. He blushes when his sister teases him and makes drunken confessions about wanting to kiss Chris Hemsworth. 

 

Three weeks into their new dynamic and Alex is more in love with him than ever.

 

They join the girls at the diner after a long day at work and he thinks he might go crazy sitting in such close proximity on this particular night. Michael had come straight from an afternoon of fixing cars out on the road wearing just a grease stained white shirt and dusty jeans, his movements slow and sleepy. Alex had nearly jumped him the second he walked through the door, something that hadn’t gone unnoticed by Liz or Maria unfortunately. 

 

Crowded into one side of a booth he can feel the heat rising off of Michael’s sun kissed skin and smell the mix of sweat and grease that clings to him. There is a smudge on his neck just behind his ear, a place Alex is intimately familiar with, and anytime he leans forward Alex’s gaze gravitates toward it. All of his senses are heightened and tuned directly on Michael Guerin.

 

He’s survived three tours in the Middle East only to die in an alien themed cafe.

 

“Alright, I’d love to stick around but the bar won’t open itself.” Alex tears his focus from Michael to see Maria hug Liz before standing. Putting on her jacket she eyes him and Michael with a puckish grin. “You,” she pokes Alex in the chest, leveling him with a pointed stare. “Call me later.” Without waiting for an answer she turns on her heel and leaves. 

 

Alex throws a furtive glance in Michael’s direction hoping he didn’t notice how incredibly unsubtle that exchange was. 

 

Luckily, he seems preoccupied by something else, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Wait, what time is it?” Michael lifts his hips slightly, his entire right side brushing against Alex’s arm as he fumbles with his pockets. Alex holds his breath until he has settled back into his seat phone in hand. “Shit, the game started twenty minutes ago.”

 

Alex snorts in surprise, happy for the distraction. He and Liz share an amused look while Michael sends off a quick text. “Since when do you like sports?”

 

“I don’t.” he grins, motioning for Alex to let him out of the booth. “But Noah does. He used to watch the Astros with his dad and I picked up the tradition after he died a few years back.”

 

Alex falls back onto the bench after Michael passes, staring up at him with what he’s sure is a lovesick expression on his face. Michael just continues to surprise him.

 

Oblivious, Michael pulls out his wallet only to have Liz wave him off. “Get out of here, I’ll grab it and you can pay me back later.” 

 

They all know he won’t. Michael’s financial situation is something they’ve all become more aware of with all the time they’ve been spending together. Anytime they can get away with it one of them will cover his part of the bill and Michael has yet to call them out on it.

 

Michael leans down to press a kiss to Liz’s hair in thanks then claps a hand on Alex’s shoulder before darting for the door, pushing his way through a family of tourists on their way in. Alex follows him with his eyes as he runs past the large front windows and keeps looking long after he’s disappeared from sight. His shoulder feels like it’s on fire. They’ve gotten comfortable with casual, friendly touches but with Alex’s body thrumming since Michael first sat down, the even the barest physical contact feels like a brand on his skin.

 

“Have you asked him out yet?”

 

Alex turns his head so fast his neck cracks. Liz is resting her chin in her hand and offers him a friendly smile. Her eyes are teasing though and he bristles.

 

“We’re not rushing into anything, Liz.” He sighs, schooling his features to convince her he’s serious though he doesn’t even try to deny that they’ll get there someday. “We need to only be friends for awhile. I’m not just going to fall into bed with him again.” 

 

“That’s so stupid. Please, do it again.” He raises his eyebrows at her choice of words. She glares but reaches out a hand to cover his, her voice turning soft. “For all of our sakes, Alex. Watching you two moon over each other is just painful. I don’t know how you can stand it.”

 

He shakes his head, smiling sadly. Part of him knows she has a point. He’s being scared and stubborn like always, but he also knows that he’s right. The two of them have a pattern of losing themselves in each other and Alex wants them to know and understand each other completely before he lets that happen again.

 

“Ok, fine, I won’t push.” Liz takes her hand back so she can grab her shake, taking a long pull from her straw. “Only because I know Maria won’t go easy on you later.”

 

Alex grabs a cold fry from Michael’s basket and dips it into her shake, laughing when she smacks his hand away. “Can’t wait.”


	8. “I need you to let me all the way in.”

“I need you to let me all the way in, Guerin.” Alex’s voice sounds far away even though Michael can see him standing right in front of him. He’s a single eye and a jacket collar looming high above him; an almighty presence with the power to pass judgment on lower beings such as Michael.

 

“That’s rich coming from you, don’t you think?” He doesn’t bother to hide the contempt in his voice. “I’ve answered all your questions, told you all about my shitty childhood traumas. You’re the one who ran away again.”

 

A long silence follows and Michael wonders if Alex continued his pattern and left him behind. The eye and jacket collar remain but who’s to say it was ever really Alex. Maybe it’s some celestial being here to tell him he’s as much a disappointment of an alien as he is a failure of a human. 

 

“I meant the door. You need to move, I can’t help you from out here.”

 

Clarity bleeds into Michael’s mind briefly before he pushes it away, preferring to exist with this hazy filter on the world. It’s enough to remind him of the situation he’s gotten himself into though. Standing is out of the question and crawling seems like too much effort so he slumps to the floor and rolls his body far enough to allow the door space to swing open. Izzy’s bathroom is large enough that he could probably complete the movement a few more times. Instead, he stretches until he is sprawled across the tile, the ceramic cool against his arms and neck. 

 

Alex enters the room slowly, shutting the door before walking over to where Michael lays. He eases himself to the floor carefully, his right leg extended out in front of him. The denim of his jeans brushes against Michael’s hair and the sound it makes is a song only he can hear. He moves his head back and forth seeking the melody.

 

“What are you doing?”

 

“Composing.” A hand weaves into his hair stilling his movement. He’s taken the music from him and Michael finds his eyes, focusing on them so Alex can face his betrayal head on. 

 

Movement above his eyes catches Michael’s attention. Two dark eyebrows shifting like landforms converging in the middle to create a mountain of concern.

 

“Everybody is worried about you,” Alex whispers. The hand in his hair moves, tangling further in the curls. It’s a familiar feeling, one that draws memory and feeling through the haze. 

 

“Well that’s new.” His laugh is harsh and cruel and brings a frown to Alex’s beautiful face. He doesn’t like being the cause of that expression, but Alex is shattering his filter and letting the pain flood back into his system.

 

Michael closes his eyes, willing Alex to get up and just leave him be. 

 

“Isobel is worried.”

 

Michael provides the desired reaction before he even has time to identify the manipulation for what it is. His eyes snap open and he sits up enough to stare at the closed door in concern. He sighs when he realizes Alex has used his weakness against him and moves himself into a sitting position wanting to get this conversation over with. 

 

Hands reach out to steady him as he tilts too far to one side and Alex lingers until he’s sure he’s stable. Or at least as stable as he’s capable of being at the moment. Alex produces a water bottle from his jacket pocket and passes it to him silently. Michael lets the cool liquid slide down his throat, his body protesting as it craves a different substance. 

 

“Isobel has better things to worry about right now.” This apparently was the wrong things to say as Alex scowls, worry transforming into potent anger. 

 

“You’re her brother, of course she’s going to worry. This isn’t like you, Guerin.” Michael wants to ask how he would have any idea what he is like, but Alex is riled up now and this is starting to feel more like an interrogation. An interrogation from his ex-something on his sister’s bathroom floor is not how he saw tonight going. 

 

“Showing up to dinner high? Stoned, maybe, but I’m guessing this isn’t weed.”

 

Michael confirms with a shake of his head. The world is becoming sharper every second he sits here. He can feel bile rising in his throat and attempts even breaths in hopes of suppressing it. He leans forward enough so that his back is no longer pressed against the cabinets, but even this small movement sends the world off balance. 

 

Alex is staring at him, either unaware of his discomfort or simply not caring. Every cell in his body screams for him to stand and get as far away from here as possible. He needs to get back to the junkyard where no one he knows can watch as he falls apart.

 

“What are you on?” Even through the pain Michael can recognize the fear in Alex’s voice. He has a visceral need to soothe him and he hopes the truth will ease his worry, and perhaps get him out of here faster. 

 

“c’tone.” Panic spikes at the slurred response. Everything is happening too fast. He’s losing control over his body, surrendering to the pain. His skin is a raging inferno, spreading quickly and searing down to the bone, making everything feel tight and tender. 

 

Alex’s eyes go wide and he moves closer, reaching out for him but unsure what he should do. He settles his hands on Michael’s arms and holds on tight. Michael whimpers at the pressure of his fingers against sensitive skin.

 

A sudden thought spurs Michael into action. The bathroom. There has to be a bottle of acetone somewhere in this room and if he can find it the pain will stop. He has to find it. His hands reach behind him, clawing at the cabinets. He twists his body and cries out at the stabbing pain in his shoulder. He has to find that bottle. 

 

Alex grabs him with more force, overpowering him and pulling him away from the cabinet doors. Michael puts up a weak attempt at resisting. His own voice registers in his ears, repeating “I need it” in a desperate plea. 

 

“Guerin.” Alex sounds just as desperate. His face is going in and out of focus but Michael can see fear and confusion overtaking his features. “Guerin, what’s wrong? Talk to me. Michael, please!” 

 

Michael collapses onto Alex’s chest without warning. With the last of his energy he reaches heavy arms to pull his shirt up his back, the material sticking to sweat drenched skin. Alex takes over quickly, letting him rest. The gauze he’d hastily attached that morning is peeled back and it feels like he’s being stabbed with a million needles. He bites his lip to keep from crying out and somewhere above the pain he thinks Alex presses a kiss to his temple, words of comfort spilling from his lips.

 

Once the bandage is removed Michael knows exactly what Alex will find. Shards from the piece of alien tech he’d been messing with embedded deeply in an open wound, the skin an angry red and most likely infected. A fleeting thought that no one was supposed to see this echoes in his mind.

 

The last thing he hears is Alex yelling Liz’s name before everything goes black.


	9. “I promise I’ll be tender.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah this is definitely on the list of things to continue.

The first thing Alex is aware of when he wakes is that his right leg has grown back overnight. 

 

That doesn’t make any sense but the thought is enough to startle him from his half sleeping state. He’s experienced phantom pains before, has become well acquainted with them in fact. This is different. Using his left foot he runs his toes down from his knee. He only allows himself to panic when he reaches the ankle. 

 

He opens his eyes and bright sunlight blazes through the window which also makes zero sense. He always draws his curtains before going to bed. All of that falls a little low on the list of priorities right now though. 

 

Alex throws back the sheet covering his lower half and there they are, two wholly intact legs. Two wholly intact pale legs covered in hair far coarser than his own. His eyes travel the rest of his body and it is a painfully familiar sight, yet viewing it from this angle is alarming and unnatural. 

 

“What the actual fuck?” he whispers, startled when it’s Michael’s voice that carries out into the room. Not room he realizes as his eyes finally stray from Michael’s body to take in his surroundings. He is definitely in the airstream and he is most definitely in Michael Guerin’s body. If this is some kind of alien thing he is going to kill him.

 

Slowly he swings his legs over the edge of the bed letting his feet touch the ground. His right foot is warm and weighted against the floor of the trailer. The pressure he exerts travels up his shin, calf muscles tightening, knee flexing. Alex can’t stop the tears from trailing down his, Michael’s, cheeks. 

 

This is impossible, in so many ways, but for this one moment he isn’t questioning it. No, this moment he will accept as the gift from the universe that it is.

 

Standing is strange without having to correct his balance, something he does these days instinctively. Once upright an icy feeling of dread trails down his spine. 

 

He has to pee. 

 

Alex is intimately versed in every inch of Michael’s body but this is an experience he never needed. 

 

Shuffling over to the cramped closet space that serves as the bathroom, he pushes all of his focus onto the miracle leg and away from what he’s about to do. 

 

It’s more surreal than weird if he’s being honest, but he’s still immensely relieved when it’s over. He’s sure that Michael, if he’s in Alex’s body which he suspects is the case, is having no qualms with such things. 

 

“You better not be doing any weird shit with my body, Guerin,” he mutters to himself. 

 

“I promise I’ll be tender, darlin’.”

 

Alex spins and comes face to face with himself. Well, it’s his body and his face but the expression is unmistakably Michael. The patented smirk is firmly in place but his, Alex’s, eyes reflect what’s hiding just below the surface: a man who is truly, madly, deeply freaking out.

 

“What the hell did you do, Guerin?”


	10. i'm a rusty set of strings that i keep windin'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of people wanted to know what happens next so here is the follow up to "I need you to let me all the way in."

Michael will always remember his first day of school, not for any of the reasons children usually remember that day but because of the discovery it would lead to. One that would change his life for better and worse.

 

His first three days in Albuquerque had been spent hidden away inside his new house. His first attempt at a home on this planet. He didn’t understand then why his foster parents even bothered taking him in. They weren’t nice people and they barely spoke to him, acting as if they were the mute ones whenever in his company.

 

Still, he felt comfortable in that house. He missed Max and Isobel, sure, but it didn’t bother him like he thought it would, being so far away from them and the pods. He could still feel a connection to them, a small pull at the back of his mind that reminded him they were still out there. He supposed he always would. 

 

So he kept to his room, finding ways to amuse himself. There were no toys, not even the dingy kind they’d played with at the group home. Drawing, on paper this time, always on paper, passed the time and when he tired of that he slept. Dreams came easily, always the same; floating someplace warm and pink where everything was quiet and safe, and when he woke the feeling followed him throughout the day.

 

Then Monday came and he was taken from his safe haven and dropped in the middle of a war zone. Tiny humans besieged him, their weapons comprised of lingering stares and whispered thoughts hidden behind hands. The braver ones armed with sharp words trying to pierce his silence. More adults watched him, only ever him, with sad eyes and wouldn’t explain what about him caused them so much unhappiness.

 

All of that was manageable though compared to that feeling of peace slowly fading throughout the day leaving an aching loneliness so strong he thought it would never go away.

 

Several months continued like this, a cycle of familiarity and routine that helped Michael settle into his assumed human existence. School, speech therapy, and then home to quiet the feelings the outside world imposed on him. He discovered that the loneliness was still inside him but at home it was so much easier to ignore it.  _ Maybe that’s what home means _ , he often wondered.

 

He found his answers in a bottle one day. Eight years old and left unsupervised, curiosity prevailed. Something about this house brought him the only inkling of happiness he had ever known and he needed to know what it was. He’d heard the whispered plans to send him away. No amount of money was worth having to be around him it seemed.

 

Less than a year later he was finally taken away but so were they, in the back of a police car. Finding that bottle had scared him and for good reason it would appear. He might not have had any memories or fully understood what it means to be human, but something told him that peace shouldn’t come from something like that.

 

So he chose to seek it in other places. Talking came easy once he actually tried and he learned that he could make the other children laugh with him instead of at him, even if he still couldn’t call any of them friend. He found joy in his schoolwork, solving problems as natural as breathing.

 

Things were looking up, and then came Sante Fe where home wasn’t safe nor even a word he could pretend applied to him anymore. They had their own bottles here, ones that sat out in the open and turned you mean when you drank from them.

 

His powers began developing shortly before their tenth birthday, nearly three years to the day from when they’d left the pods. The first time he lost control, a broken lamp was echoed by the crack of his foster father’s belt. Locked in the bathroom looking for anything to help with the pain he’d found a duller version of an old friend. The packaging might have been different but there was no mistaking the dizzying smell lulling him under a blanket of tranquility.

 

He breathed in deeply, each inhale setting his ribs on fire. It wasn’t enough and tentatively he took a sip. The stinging liquid trickled down his throat, burning at first and then soothing as relief rippled out from his chest. So he sat, drinking away his pain and desperately begging the universe to spare his siblings a similar fate.

 

* * *

 

When Michael wakes it feels like no time has passed and yet he is definitely no longer on Isobel’s bathroom floor or draped across Alex. The pain is noticeably gone aside from the constant ache of his left hand and a slight headache. His body feels light but his mind is tired, drained from the events of the last two days.

 

There’s someone laying beside him, easily recognizable and comfortably curled against his side, their head resting on his shoulder.

 

“Is?” His voice is weak and sounds almost as exhausted as he feels.

 

Isobel sits up only to throw herself over his chest in a crushing hug. He wraps his arms tightly around her and runs a soothing hand over her hair when he feels her take a shuddering breath. His eyes open slowly and it takes a moment with the setting sun breaking through the windows to realize he’s in Isobel and Noah’s guest room.

 

“I’m sorry Izzy,” he whispers into her hair. “Guess I fucked up again huh?” He tries to laugh but it sounds hollow. He never should have come over tonight.

 

Isobel slowly rises until she’s perched on the edge of the bed looking down at him with her most austere big sister look, though the effect is lessened by the worry still clear in her eyes. She reaches out to run her fingers comfortingly through his hair.

 

“Trust me, we’re going to have a serious talk about you not seeking medical attention and nearly dying on my bathroom floor.” He rolls his eyes. That seems like an over exaggeration, although going by the look she has on her face he wonders if maybe it isn’t. 

 

“We’re also going to discuss the glowing metal Liz pulled out of your back.” He closes his eyes trying to tamp down the fear that sentence stirs, knowing that she can definitely feel it from this close. “But all of that can wait until tomorrow. Right now I’m just glad you’re ok.”

 

Isobel fusses with the blanket covering him for a moment, maternal energy pouring from her even if she doesn’t know how to harness it. When he opens his eyes he sees that her stern mask has crumpled revealing the fear and sadness she had tried to shield. Tears gather in her eyes and as always he feels physically pained at the sight. He grabs her hand giving it a reassuring squeeze.

 

“I love you Michael, and I promise I’m going to be a better sister from now on.”

 

Her words confuse him and he stares at her with wide eyes trying to make sense of them.

 

“I love you too. Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about though, you’re the best sister in the universe far as I’m concerned.” He grins up at her, as sincere as he’s ever been but she just shakes her head, holding firm to her statement.

 

It’s true though. Isobel trusts him, she confides in him. She knows that no matter what she can always come to him for help or even just for someone to talk at until she inevitably solves her own problem. She tries to include him in family events, the ones that don’t include the Evans parents at least, and she has always been quick to bestow hugs or other signs of affection on him, ever since the day he returned to Roswell. There really isn’t much more he could ask for.

 

Unwilling to argue the issue she simply leans down to press a kiss to his forehead before standing.

 

“You should get some sleep. Like I said, everything else can wait for tomorrow.” She walks backward towards the door as she continues talking. “Liz took Max home so he could recover but Alex is still here. He refused to leave but he’s smart and didn’t try to fight me on staying in here with you.”

 

Michael smiles, trying to picture Alex going toe-to-toe with Isobel about anything. The thought of them arguing over who gets to sit with his unconscious ass fills him with a warmth he can’t describe.

 

There’s a soft knock on the door before it opens revealing Alex standing in the doorway.

 

“I heard you walking around. I figured that meant he was awake.” Isobel crosses her arms and narrows her eyes, giving him an appraising look. Michael watches closely to make sure she’s not using her powers. He’ll have to remind her that Alex is off limits when it comes to her influencing, even if they’re not together. Alex doesn’t back down and the two of them are suddenly caught in a staring contest that Michael is too tired to make sense of. Eventually Isobel raises an eyebrow, motioning for him to enter the room. Alex goes swiftly.

 

“I take it you’re spending the night?”

 

Alex nods but his eyes are now firmly set on Michael, openly watching him in a way that makes Michael’s skin warm again but for very different reasons. Michael couldn’t look away even if he wanted to. He hears Izzy scoff from somewhere off to the side.

 

“No sex in my house, Michael.”

 

She closes the door behind her and Michael expects her words to leave an awkward tension between them but Alex just steps closer to the bed, shedding his jacket and jeans before sitting down to remove his prosthetic. Michael makes note for the first time that he is also dressed for bed in a tshirt and pair of pajama pants he knows belong to Noah. He doesn’t even want to know how he got to be that way.

 

Alex lays down beside him and Michael allows him to manhandle him into being the little spoon. Satisfied, Alex wraps an arm around Michael’s waist and tugs him snugly against his chest. Michael wants to ask how this fits into Alex’s definition of friends but he’s too afraid that those words would break whatever spell they are under.

 

Sleep calls him back quickly, his breathing slowing to match Alex’s and his eyes closing against the remaining stretches of sunlight, until Alex speaks.

 

“We need to talk about what happened earlier.” Michael tenses involuntarily in anticipation of his next words. “I’ve seen guys at the VA get hooked on opioids, just wanting to numb the pain. I know what it looks like, Guerin.” Blunt as ever, that’s his Alex.

 

Michael wants to argue, to deny and deflect. He knows he can’t though, not after the way he was acting this afternoon. He wants to ask Alex what he expected from the kid who grew up surrounded by addicts. Is it really that much of a surprise that this is where he wound up? He’s too tired to have this conversation right now.

 

“Tomorrow,” Alex speaks softly, nuzzling into Michael’s curls. His breath is warm against his scalp and his lips brush the skin with a simple kiss that is distinctly not friendly.

 

Michael settles back into the strong, protective hold. Tomorrow is promising to be a long day of painful revelations and explanations. For now he’ll lean into their connection, let Alex’s presence quiet his mind and accept the peace being in his arms always brings him.


	11. "It’s feels like I’m suffocating.”

“Isobel!” 

 

A wave of blonde flies through the air as Isobel turns toward Michael’s frantic voice. Few people are on the street at this time of day but those that are look on in curiosity. 

 

“Michael, what’s wrong?” She drags him closer to the nearest storefront. While it offers them no further privacy it does give him a place to lean and catch his breath for which he is grateful. 

 

“Is, you gotta help me. It’s Alex.” He pauses, attempting to fill his lungs with air but meeting resistance. A force comprised solely of fear and worry is lodged in his chest, unrelenting in its grip on his heart. “Please, Isobel, we need to find him.”

 

She pulls him into a hug, concern obvious in the way her hands flit over him in search of an injury that’s not there.

 

“Alright, tell me what’s going on and we’ll fix it.” She speaks slow and calm and it only serves to agitate him more. This isn’t a moment for calm, this is a moment for panic and action.

 

“I don’t know!” He steps out of her hold feeling trapped, needing the ability to run if he has to. “It’s just this feeling I have and he isn’t answering his phone.”

 

“Are you sure he’s not just screening your calls?” Isobel holds her hands up in surrender at the furious glare he throws her way. “Sorry, ok what kind of feeling are we talking about here?”

 

"It feels like I’m suffocating.” Michael runs his hands restlessly through his hair, tugging on the ends. They shouldn’t be standing here, they should be doing something. 

 

“But it’s not me, Is. I can’t explain it but I think it’s kinda like you and Max. I know something is wrong.” He latches onto her hands, staring at her with wide, unblinking eyes. “Please, Izzy, he’s my—”

 

“I know what he is to you.” She smirks, not unkindly, and raises a challenging eyebrow.

 

Michael’s frenzy comes to a standstill, quickly trailed by incredulous fury.

 

“How does everybody know about that?!”

 

“Michael, please. You’re not as aloof as you like to think.” She raises a hand, brushing her thumb across the skin next to his eye. “Your whole, energy for lack of a less new agey word, would change every time he came back to visit. It was such a rare occurrence that after a while the two couldn’t be considered a coincidence.”

 

“Fine.” The tightness in his chest prevents him from taking the deep breath he needs after the turn this conversation took. “I love him. We can talk about that later,  _ after _ we find him.”

 

Isobel’s face turns serious. “Do you think it’s Noah?”

 

“I don’t know, maybe? It could also be his dad.” Michael pauses, chewing on his lip. The who doesn’t really concern him right now, he’s more preoccupied with the where. “We need a plan.”

 

Isobel looks around them, determination settling into her features. 

 

“Come with me.” She grabs his hand, gently dragging him down the street toward The Crashdown and ignoring his protests until they’re seated in a booth. 

 

The cafe is quiet but Liz leans against the counter ready to assist any customers. Her friendly greeting is cut off by a worried glance between them. Isobel takes the menus from her and whispers something Michael can’t hear. 

 

Liz retreats, Isobel opens her menu, and Michael snaps.

 

“Goddamnit Isobel! We don’t have time to fucking eat. If you’re not going to help me I’ll just do it myself.” He moves to stand, already planning the route of places he’s going to look when Isobel’s hand grasps his wrist, nails digging in like barbed wire preventing him from going any further.

 

“Sit down,” she hisses. She waits for him to obey. “We’re not here for lunch, I just needed somewhere quiet. I have an idea but I’ve never done it before.”

 

Michael nods, desperate for anything to work. The weight in his chest is heavier and the thought that Alex might be running out of time leaves him feeling helpless.

 

“After I figured out what was going on with you two I realized that there had always been something there. Ever since high school there was this connection between you. I’d never felt anything like it, I couldn’t name it but I knew it was there.”

 

Her words mend something deep inside that he thought would always remain broken before tearing it to pieces all over again. Validation of a truth he’d always known but had been forced to question too many times, followed by the eternal question: if what they have is so real, why can they never make it work?

 

Now isn’t the time for that, not while Alex is in danger. You can’t worry about your future if the one you want to spend it with is dead.

 

“I want to try and reach him through you.” She looks skeptical which isn’t very reassuring. “I don’t know if my powers even work this way, but if you direct your thoughts toward him then maybe I can follow them and locate him.”

 

“Like an antenna.” 

 

“Yeah,” she breathes out, looking relieved that he understands. It could work, he concedes. It could also be a useless waste of their time. Either way it’s a better option than driving around aimlessly. 

 

He gives a sharp nod, sitting up straighter on the bench. “Let’s give it a shot. What do you need me to do?”

 

“Well you need to think about Alex, think you can handle that?” He glares and she settles into her seat grabbing her menu and motioning for him to do the same. “Just focus on Alex, call out to him in your mind. I’m not promising this will work.” 

 

Michael rests a hand on hers giving it a comforting squeeze. “I trust you, Is. Just remember it’s a mess in there.” He taps the side of his head. “Only gotten worse since we were kids.” 

 

Isobel nods before locking her eyes on his, ready to start. He does his best to quiet his mind, though judging by Isobel’s quiet cursing as he drifts into his mind he’s not doing a very good job. 

 

He focuses on his memories of Alex, mindful of Isobel being in his head. He recalls his smile, so joyous and carefree when they were kids. Something he’s only seen break through a handful of times in the last decade. He remembers the feeling of waking up and finding Alex had stayed, how hopeful he was in that moment. The first time he’d let himself feel that kind of hope in a long time.

 

_ Alex, please hold on I’m trying to find you. Wherever you are I’m always gonna find you, I’ll never look away, I promise. Just please, please hold on. Y’know, Is says our connection is stronger than anything she’s ever felt. I told you we were cosmic. You just gotta come back to me so I can prove it. Please, Alex, please. I love you. _

 

A hand shakes his arm dragging him out of his head. He opens his eyes to see Isobel, pale and looking like she’s about to puke. Liz stands next to her holding out a glass of clear liquid, her other hand still on Michael’s shoulder. Both of them wear matching victorious grins.

 

“Got him.”


	12. build a bridge to my heart and lead the way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a follow up to “That’s so stupid. Please, do it again.”

Alex has never been a huge fan of metaphors. He’s always preferred a more straightforward approach to the world, even more so since he’s been back home. 

But there has never been anything straightforward about his feelings for Michael. So here he is, alone in his bed comparing their relationship to his missing leg. That afternoon in the tool shed, a lifetime ago and yet all too recent in his mind, had injured them irrevocably. The tentative possibility of something more was dealt a blow at the hands of his father.

For a decade they’d avoided the issue, letting the pain fester in the prolonged periods of separation. Sex had been their crutch, had kept the connection between them from falling apart for all those years without ever having to talk or heal.

Now they are here, finally building a foundation and standing on their own, adjusting to their new normal as friends. He tells himself not to push them too fast, knowing from his actual leg that rushing the process just leaves you laid out on your ass and hurting. 

Days like today make the temptation to take that next step unbearable. Closing his eyes he can perfectly see the way the sunlight caught the hidden golden highlights in Michael’s hair and the column of his throat enticingly exposed whenever his head was thrown back in laughter, something Alex is proud to say was often. 

Walking through town at the latest alien themed festival, avoiding Isobel and her eagerness to put them to work, had felt natural and innocuous. The day had been warmer than normal for the time of year and Michael’s bare arm had brushed against his as they walked close together even in less crowded areas. Skin electrified under the slightest touch, Alex had needed to remind himself not to grab his hand. 

Michael had stepped away whenever they were approached by one of his father’s friends, always staying close and ready to rejoin him after he’d fulfilled his dutiful politeness. At one point while talking about his plans for retirement, he’d watched peripherally as Liz and Maria had cornered him by one of the booths. Michael had brushed it off when he’d asked and Alex hoped they hadn’t moved onto harassing him about the status of their relationship. They had already been bothering Alex for weeks.

Giving up on the prospect of sleep, he sits up and pauses before making his decision. He pulls on the sock and fastens the prosthetic into place before grabbing a jacket and his keys and walking out the front door. Suddenly the cabin is too secluded, too remote. 

He’s halfway there before he’s aware of where his mind has taken him on autopilot. He isn’t really surprised, but he is wary. It’s after two in the morning and he wouldn’t blame him for turning him away. He follows the familiar route back to where Michael parks his airstream. The headlights track the graveyard of broken vehicles, markers leading him to his destination. 

He turns the lights off as soon as he sees them gleam off the side of the trailer, staying put while he tries to make a plan. He is just exiting the car when the door to the swings open revealing Michael wearing nothing but boxers, rubbing the side of his face in a listless gesture. Alex takes a few steps closer so he is more easily visible. 

“Alex?” He moves down onto the top step. “You ok?”

Alex opens his mouth but still doesn’t have the words to explain his presence. He offers an unhelpful shrug.

Michael glances down at his mostly naked body before taking a step back inside. He gestures toward the fire pit. “Get a fire started, I’ll be right out.”

Happy to have a task, Alex makes quick work of following orders. He has claimed his favorite lawn chair, the one he knows is most comfortable to get up from on his leg, when the door swings open again. It’s a long moment before Michael reappears, holding two mugs and closing the door behind him with his mind. 

He sits in the chair closest to Alex before passing him one of the mugs. He offers the black one with a little green alien and Alex smiles, humming in happiness when the smell of chocolate hits his nose.

“Thanks.”

Michael nods with a tired smile and Alex feels guilty for waking him. They sit in silence, Michael shifting in his seat trying to get comfortable and Alex blowing on his too hot drink wondering if he should just leave. He steals a glance at Michael, now fully covered in a long sleeve shirt and jeans but no less beautiful to Alex. 

This is what he wants. Quiet nights spent in each other’s company with nothing but nature’s soundtrack and a warm fire surrounding them. But he knows they’re not quite there yet.

“Twenty questions.”

“Light as a feather stiff as a board.” Michael laughs at the confused look on Alex’s face. “Oh, sorry, are we not randomly naming middle school sleepover games?”

Alex rolls his eyes and brings his mug closer to his face hiding his flushing cheeks behind the steam. He’s not sure where the idea came from but it’s growing on him. “Humor me, Guerin.” 

Michael takes a sip from his own mug, lips quirking into a teasing smile. 

“Liz and Deluca put you up to this? Did they dare you?” He shakes his head in mock sympathy. “You shoulda picked truth man.” 

Alex ignores the gibe. “What do you mean did they put me up to it?” 

Michael waves a hand, his eyes focused on the fire. “They were just being annoying earlier. Thought maybe they’d cornered you too.” He doesn’t elaborate, evading the topic as he had this afternoon, but Alex can guess the kinds of things the girls had said to him. He's starting to wonder if they have money on this. 

Silence falls between them as they absorb the warmth of the flames and the hot cocoa. Michael has added some kind of spice, nutmeg, he thinks. Alex has no clue where he’d found it in the airstream but he’s glad he’d thought of it.

“Ok ok, I’ll play along.” Alex startles and then settles back into his seat feeling smug. Michael is just too easy sometimes. 

“Favorite movie?” 

Michael looks down into his mug like it holds the secrets to the universe.The firefight casts shadows across his face but Alex would wager a guess that he is blushing. “October Sky. Favorite song?”

“You’re a sadist.” Michael looks up with a surprised laugh and can’t hide his smile. Alex groans. “Ok, um,” he pauses, thumbs tapping against his mug while he tries to narrow down his choice. “First Day of My Life. Bright Eyes.” 

“Random.” Michael tilts his head to the side, not judging just taking the information in. “I like it.”

They go back and forth like that for a while, asking trivial things and laughing as the fire slowly burns down. Without asking, Michael adds some more wood when it gets too low, wordlessly telling Alex to stay. 

Alex flounders for his next question. Mug long since emptied and set to the side, his hands start tapping out a beat on his legs. He will never run out of things he wants to know about Michael, he’s sure of that, but he’s getting tired and also trying to avoid anything too deep. Tonight isn’t the night for those conversations.

“How did you know about light as a feather stiff as a board?” Maria had made him and Liz play it once when they were kids. She’d been so upset when it didn’t work. 

Michael’s content smile turns mischievous and he looks up at him from beneath his eyelashes. Alex probably shouldn’t be as attracted to him as he is right now.

“Max and I would sneak down into the Evans’ basement to spy on Izzy and her friends sometimes. One time we came down and one of the girls was laying there with her eyes closed while the others surrounded her. Max thought they were doing some kind of ritualistic sacrifice.” He snorts, shaking his head fondly at the happy memory of his brother. 

“When they started chanting I caught on and I used my powers to lift her, just a couple of inches. Oh man, did they freak.” Alex loves seeing the unbridled joy on Michael’s face as he loses himself in the memory of a time when he and his siblings could just be kids. He knows how rare moments like that were for him.

“So you’ve always been a menace to society,” he quips.

Michael throws him a wink, looking way too proud of himself. “If there wasn’t proof I came from the stars, you’d think I’d popped up straight outta hell.” 

Still smiling, his right hand absentmindedly moves to rub at the inside of his left forearm. It’s something he’s seen Michael do a handful of times over the years but he's never been able to figure out what triggers it or if he even knows he is doing it. He files it away as one of the more serious questions he’ll ask when he’s feeling brave.

“Wait.” Something clicks in his tired brain and he glares at Michael. “Was Maria there?”

Michael’s eyes squint as he drifts back into the memory. “Maybe? It’s possible, there was that brief blip where she and Is actually liked each other.” His eyes widen as Alex glares harder. “What?”

“She couldn’t get it to work with me. I had to buy her ice cream so she wouldn’t cry!”

Michael shakes his head, grin wider than before. “I’ll buy you an ice cream to make up for it, huh?”

His smile radiates and the waves roll onto Alex forcing him to drop the charade. “Well it’s the least you can do.”

Michael’s laugh is consumed by a yawn he tries to hide by turning his head, but reality crashes down around Alex and he remembers where they are. He’s imposing and although Michael won’t say it he knows he’s stayed too long.

“I should let you get back to sleep.” He stands before Michael can say anything, but he doesn’t even try, just looks up at Alex from behind drooping eyelids. Alex wants to kiss him goodbye. He wants to kiss him good night and he wants to kiss him good morning. He really needs to leave.

Walking towards his car, he stops and turns back when Michael calls his name. 

Michael’s head tilts to one side as his eyes rake over him from head to toe sending a shiver down Alex’s spine and a burst of warmth to his gut at the same time. 

“You sure you’re ok?”

“I am now.” With a small wave he turns quickly and practically jumps into his car. 

Driving in the opposite direction, his eyes barely stray from the mirror where Michael’s figure grows smaller and further away until he extinguishes the fire, disappearing into the darkness.


	13. flash forward and we're taking on the world together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally a prompt fill for fraudulentzodiacs over on tumblr. All she wanted was a little fluff before 1x12 and oh boy did we need it.

“You sure you’re ok with this?” 

 

Alex rolls his eyes and gently shoves Michael’s head back down so it rests on his chest. “Yes, Guerin.” He makes a show of sinking further into the couch cushions and tangling their already interlocked legs together. “Now shut up and let me watch this asshole get what’s coming to him.”

 

They’ve spent the whole day here on the couch binging Game of Thrones, and despite Michael’s endless concern it’s been exactly the kind of lazy day he’s always wanted. Nothing to do but watch tv with his boyfriend’s warm and solid presence cuddled up against him. 

 

Alex understands Michael’s worry and he even appreciates it, to a degree. The show is violent and bloody, unnecessarily so for a general public who have never witnessed anything like it first hand, and for a combat Vet that could easily be triggering but so far Alex has been fine. Watching men in armor scream with swords in hand is a lot different from the things he’s seen. 

 

And now Oberyn Martell is about to take down the Mountain and Alex isn’t about to let Michael ruin this moment with his overprotective streak.

 

Alex flinches, his whole body jumping at what comes next. Before he can properly take in the shock and grief he feels at the death of a character he really liked, Michael is up and reaching for the remote. The screen pauses, thankfully on a less gruesome image.

 

With a groan, Alex yanks Michael back on top of him, using a hand in his curls to pull him in for a quick, exasperated kiss.

 

“Michael, I love you, but you need to quit it or I’m kicking you out of the cabin.” He cuts Michael off before he can argue. “Can you honestly say you didn’t flinch the first time you saw that? Because if not I think that’s what we should be focusing on.”

 

Michael slowly buries his face against Alex’s neck and speaks too low for him to understand. He nudges him back and soon those damn hazel eyes that can tear right through you are staring back at him.

 

“I’m sorry I forgot about the amputation.” His whispered voice is threaded with guilt. 

 

And there it is, the reason Michael has been jumping in anticipation of every major injury he knows is coming. Watching someone lose their foot on the battlefield had come as a surprise and they’d had to take a break while Alex got control of himself after, fragmented memories from almost two years ago sifting through his mind all at once.

 

He should have known Michael would blame himself for that. Trying to convince him otherwise will just be a waste of breath at this point.

 

Alex sighs, bringing a hand up to run through Michael’s hair, happy when he leans into the gesture. “Does anyone else lose a leg?”

 

Michael’s face turns serious, a pensive furrow growing between his eyes. Alex watches, amused, as he mentally flips through the rest of the show, his genius brain cataloguing all of the injuries they have yet to see.

 

“No,” he concludes. 

 

“Then we’re fine.” Alex brushes a feather light kiss to Michael’s forehead hoping he will believe him. He grabs the remote from Michael’s hand and breathes deeply causing Michael’s head to rise and fall from where he’s settled it back on his chest. 

 

Pushing play he tries to reassure him a bit more. “I can see why you all like this so much. I mean, their strategies are shit and there’s a bit too much gratuitous nudity for my taste.” He smiles at the sound of Michael’s subdued laugh. “But Jaime Lannister makes up for it.”

 

Michael moves with such force that it knocks the breath right out of Alex. His arms hold him up until he’s hovering above Alex with a look of disgust on his face.

 

“You like  _ Jaime Lannister _ ?” 

 

The smile on Alex’s face grows as he wraps his arms around Michael’s waist, ignoring the show completely now. “Snarky asshole just looking out for his family? What can I say, I have a type.”

 

Michael’s protests that he is nothing like the Kingslayer are easily swallowed with a kiss.


	14. “Just you being here, I already feel safe.”

Michael takes a step towards the devastating sight before him. He takes another, and another, before Alex’s arm is around his waist tugging him back towards his car. He doesn’t have the energy to put up a fight.

 

_“Guerin, you can’t. We have to go.”_

 

For seventy years at least forty other aliens were alive and on earth, right there in the building straight out of his nightmares. They survived, if you can call it that, for seventy years and in a matter of minutes he had killed them all.

 

_“Come on, I need to get you somewhere safe.”_

 

Alex’s voice is quiet and strained with emotion against his ear. Alex, who would have stood beside him inside a ticking time bomb if it came down to it.

 

“Just you being here, I already feel safe.”

 

Alex lets a pained sound fall past his lips. Whether from his words, honest but admittedly sappier than he’d normally allow himself to be, or the throbbing that must be going through his leg after sprinting from the building, Michael isn’t sure.

 

Kyle is already in the front passenger seat, looking around wildly for any signs of danger. Alex opens the back door and helps load Michael’s shaking and lax body inside.

 

He steps as close into Michael’s space as he can, whispers low enough so Kyle can’t overhear.

 

“I’ll keep you safe, always.”

 

For the first time in a long time, Michael believes him. They stare into each other’s eyes, lost like so many times before, but Michael feels as if he’s seeing the real Alex like he never has before. He hopes Alex thinks the same of him.

 

“I didn’t mean it.”

 

A sad smile pulls at the corner of Alex’s mouth and Michael knows he understands. They don’t have time for this. A small part of Michael knows this but it is so weak, lost in the swirl of everything else he is feeling, that he can’t bother to care. He can’t let those ugly words hang between them. Lies said in desperation, a visceral need to push Alex out of harm’s way.

 

“I know.” Alex wraps a hand behind Michael’s head, pulling him down to drop a kiss on his curls before quickly stepping back and closing the door.

 

Michael rests against the window, wet cheek pressed against glass heated by the sun. He stares back at the destruction they’re leaving behind as they drive away. The faint screams are gone and only silence remains. The ache in his chest has gone numb, replaced only by the rapid beating of his heart. He’s never felt so alone.


	15. “I’ll walk you home.”

After a storm the skies may clear and the sun may shine but the destruction wrought will still be there. In the wake of Noah, the three aliens are left to pick up the pieces. 

 

Potentially the last of their kind on this planet, they are left to mourn those they couldn’t save and face an uncertain future. Alex, Liz, and Kyle do their best to be there for them but, more so than ever, the de facto siblings are alone in this world together. 

 

They are alone but separate in their grief, words and actions hurled in crisis leaving splintered cracks in their bond. They are the kind of wounds Max can’t heal with his hands nor Isobel soothe with her words. When Michael tries to numb the pain, alcohol seeps through the fissures leaving behind a stinging emptiness.

 

Alex wishes he could be enough to hold Michael together completely, but he knows that one person cannot reasonably be everything for someone no matter how much they would like to be. Patience has never been a virtue of his but for Michael he tries. 

 

Michael doesn’t exit the trailer when Alex parks the humvee. Nova runs past him as he steps out of the car, pawing at the door to the airstream with happy little yips, but still Michael doesn’t make an appearance. Alex checks and he isn’t inside at all. The garage is closed for the day but Michael could still be working, fixing things always a good way to quiet his thoughts and make him feel useful. 

 

Alex wonders briefly if he could be hiding out in the bunker but he knows Michael has been avoiding the space, or more accurately what is kept down there.

 

Before he can take a step towards the auto shop, Nova goes bounding past the old rusted bus, something in the distance grabbing her attention. He can’t run after her, his leg and hip still ache even after nearly a week of rest, but he follows the echoes of her barks until he reaches a wide open space, pausing at the sight before him.

 

Michael lays sprawled on the dusty ground now holding Nova in place on his chest as she scrambles to cover his face in affectionate slobber. Michael gives a sad smile at the beagle’s kisses. It’s the most happiness he has to offer these days.

 

Alex joins them, awkwardly lowering himself to lay at Michael’s side. The earth below them offers no comfort. The smell of sand and sharp pain of rocks digging into his back remind him of time spent in similar positions halfway around the world. He brushes the thought away quickly and focuses on the way Michael shifts closer, his eyes still watching Nova.

 

Alex moves one arm to pillow his head and stretches his other hand between them, tangling his fingers with Michael’s. The three of them settle into a comfortable silence. They watch the sun slowly cross the sky as the world continues to turn around them. 

 

They stay through the sunset; beautiful reds, oranges, and pinks blending golden in a daily ritual they normally take for granted. Color and light are drained into darkness, the inbetween state of starless black surrounding them. 

 

Michael is the first to sit up when the distant howl of a coyote causes Nova to whimper and burrow further against him. He gathers close, shielding her from the world in a way that only seems possible with animals. Rubbing gently under her chin and shushing her, he sets her down so he can push himself up off the ground, his back cracking audibly as he stands. Nova stays close, running in circles to stretch her little legs. Michael turns to offer Alex a hand, pulling him up with a soft grunt.

 

Alex draws him in for a hug. Michael can be prickly and he uses that macho cowboy swagger of his to keep people at arm’s length but when he’s hurt, when the world has kicked him down past the point of caring, that touch starved eighteen year old surfaces. Alex is just happy he can provide something he needs.

 

“Come on,” he whispers into the cold air. He pulls back and meets Michael’s defeated eyes with a warm smile. “I’ll walk you home.”

 

Before he can let go and start leading them through the dark, Michael tugs him back into his arms. He rests their foreheads together, closing his eyes and breathing him in.

 

“You are my home.”


	16. “Take my jacket. It’s cold outside.”

Michael exits his truck only to be met with Alex’s most unimpressed face. He just got here, he doesn’t know what he could have possibly done in the last five seconds to warrant that look.

 

Alex glances pointedly at Michael’s chest. He looks down at his threadbare t-shirt and lower to the ratty jeans he’s wearing. He hadn’t changed after work but he doesn’t see what the big deal is, it’s not like what they’re about to do requires a dress code.

 

“Take my jacket.” Alex shrugs off said garment revealing a snug sweater underneath that steals Michael’s attention. Alex ignores his appreciative gaze and continues speaking as if Michael is a child. “It’s March, Guerin. It’s cold outside.”

 

“What happened to  _ you run hot, Guerin _ ?” He’s already sliding his arms into the sleeves though. He’s worn other people’s clothes before but never Alex’s. It probably shouldn’t give him as much of a thrill as it does.

 

Alex reaches up to adjust the collar where it’s tucked in in the back and Michael takes the opportunity to kiss him. It’s nice, being able to be affectionate in public, not having to hide or keep their distance. 

 

He takes Alex’s hand and leads him around to the back of the truck where Kyle is already standing, waiting for them.

 

“Valenti.”

 

“Guerin.” He offers him a beer from the six pack he’s holding. Michael accepts it silently with a single nod. Over the last few weeks, Kyle has proven himself to be a good guy, a complete 180 from high school. Michael would even say he likes him most of the time but that doesn’t mean he has to show it.

 

Alex rolls his eyes at the both of them as he lowers the tailgate and climbs up into the back of the truck. They each take their place on either side of him, backs against the cab and legs outstretched.

 

“You ready for this, man?” Michael leans forward a little until he can see Kyle. “As someone who came here a long time ago from a galaxy far far away, these films are culturally important to me.” 

 

Alex digs his elbow into Michael’s side and Kyle just shakes his head, obviously trying not to laugh. Once things settled down, Alex had pulled some hometown hero strings to get the drive-in to marathon the first trilogy. It feels strange being here, watching a movie with friends, grief tucked away in a little pocket of his heart. Things were going back to normal except better than before and Michael would be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous about fucking it up.

 

They sit in silence until the drive-in screen comes to life. A few ads for local Roswell businesses play and Alex shifts around, trying to get comfortable. The back of the truck is a bit too narrow to seat the three of them side by side like they are. 

 

With a huff, Alex passes his beer to Michael before wordlessly climbing over his leg. Michael sits back and watches, amused, as Alex situates them until he’s sat between Michael’s legs and leaning against his chest.

 

“Cozy?” Alex nods, satisfied with himself, and plucks one of the bottles from Michael’s hands. 

 

Michael laughs and presses a kiss to his temple, wrapping an arm around his waist. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Kyle watching them but when he turns to glare at him he’s surprised by the almost fond expression on his face. It’s further proof of how much Valenti has changed since high school.

 

Their eyes snap forward as John Williams’ score comes blasting slightly tinny through the outdated speakers. Michael smothers a laugh against Alex’s shoulder at the look of childlike wonder that quickly overtakes Kyle.


	17. when all those shadows almost killed your light

“Liz? What’s wrong?” A phone call at 0300 hours is never a good thing, especially given the recent turn their lives have taken. 

 

“Hi Alex.” Liz sounds more hesitant than urgent which is enough for his body to relax, seeking the sleep he had been lucky enough to find earlier.

 

“I still don’t know why Max told me to call you but, um, it’s Michael.” 

 

Alex is instantly awake and sitting up, already reaching for his prosthetic. It’s been less than six hours since they had returned from Caulfield. Alex can’t bear the thought that something else may have happened to him after all of that.

 

“What’s going on, Liz? Where are you?” Alex keeps his voice calm and concise even as the fear coursing through him threatens to debilitate him. The Air Force didn’t train him in preparation for this exact moment, but it is definitely working to his advantage.

 

“We’re at Sanders’ Auto. Michael parks his trailer here.” Alex bristles at Liz acting like this is new information for him, but he can’t fault her for not knowing that Alex can find his way to Michael’s in his sleep. That’s how he had wanted it for so long after all. “Underneath you’ll find—”

 

“The bunker. Yeah, I know.” He doesn’t mean to snap at her but she is clearly avoiding his first question. “What happened?”

 

“He’s in a coma, Alex.” 

 

The fear takes over, less of a wave and more like a wall he’s hit head on leaving him frozen halfway between his bedroom and the front door. Nova comes scurrying out behind him, pawing at his leg. Whether it’s to check on him or to shove him on his way toward Michael he doesn’t know but he is grateful for her. 

 

Rational thought breaks through the expanding sense of panic inside his chest and his mind tries to form an picture of what could have happened. He needs facts but he doesn’t want them over the phone.

 

“I’m on my way.” He hangs up without listening to anything else Liz might have to say.

 

The drive into town takes no time at all, his mind too focused on getting to Michael to be aware of something as insignificant as time. The airstream is already moved out of the way and a piece of plywood covers the opening in the ground. He makes quick work of heaving it out of place and hurries down the ladder as fast as his leg will allow. 

 

Liz is waiting for him at the bottom. She looks tired and there’s a bruise blooming on her forehead but she offers him a reassuring smile that he doesn’t trust. His eyes stray from her immediately searching for the reason he’s here. 

 

Michael is laid across the table in the center of the room with no visible wounds but far too still for someone who bursts with life the way he does. Michael is never still, even when he’s sleeping. Isobel sits on a stool at his side, one hand holding his and the other resting on Max’s where it lays on her shoulder, the two of them guarding their brother and never taking their eyes off of him. He makes quick note of Isobel’s pale skin and how Max leans against her in a way that’s due more to injury than exhaustion. The three of them paint a tableau of fear and pain. 

 

His attention diverts to Michael and he becomes his sole focus. He’s torn between the desperate need to rush to his side, to feel his pulse and the warmth of his skin, and the hope that if he doesn’t get any closer it might all be an illusion. Need wins out but his approach is slow with trepidation. 

 

Alex had always loved to watch Michael sleep in the rare moments he’s had the chance, before his own cowardice inevitably pulls him away. Warm and sated beside him, he always looked so young and unguarded. He looked happy and Alex always hoped it was at least partly because of him, and if not, he hoped that he was at least getting some of the quiet that he forever sought while awake. 

 

But this isn’t sleep, this is unconscious, and sneaking out of bed in the early morning hours won’t be enough to wake him. 

 

“What happened?” His voice is soft but raw, a far cry from the composed soldier he tried to project on the phone. Standing there in a secret alien bunker he feels like the seventeen year old kid only Michael can summon these days, and with that youth comes dread and doubt.

 

“Noah.” Isobel’s voice is full fury but her eyes stay gently resting on Michael’s face. 

 

“Where is he?” Alex feels a sudden need to shield Michael’s body, as if Noah could materialize at any moment.

 

“Dead.” Unlike Isobel, Max lets his rage consume him, eyes darkening and the hand not touching Isobel coiling into a fist. Alex doesn’t need to ask who is responsible for that.

 

When neither of them offer any more information on Michael’s condition, Alex feels like he’s about to explode. Luckily, Liz can sense his growing tension and steps in to explain in that cool and methodical way of hers everything that Alex needs to know. 

 

“We think Noah’s consciousness is holding on, trying to find a vessel. Isobel entered Michael’s mind and she could sense Noah in there but he’s getting weaker. Kyle stopped by and he says nothing is physically wrong with him so once Noah has faded, Michael should wake up.”

 

“Should, right.” Alex ignores Liz’s uncertainty, because he is going to wake up, he  _ has _ to.

 

Instead he fans the sparks of petty annoyance that Kyle was called before him. He’s glad that they got Michael checked out and grateful that he is alright, but still he wishes he had been called sooner. A tiny, cruel voice in his head whispers that if he was more honest with his friends they would know to contact him with anything regarding Michael. He’s lucky Max knew, although he has no idea why Michael would choose to confide in him.

 

Alex steps closer, burying his fingers through sweat matted curls, his thumb brushing back and forth against his temple where he can feel the steady rhythm of Michael’s pulse. He stares intently at his face, willing him to wake up and say something inappropriate but still frustratingly charming. 

 

“Isobel, do you think you can try again?”

 

“Liz, no.” Max’s tone is sharp in a way Alex has never heard him use with Liz. He doesn’t dare look away from Michael though.

 

“It’s okay Max, I’ll be fine.” The stool scrapes across the floor as Isobel moves in closer. “Michael’s head is a bit of a mess,” she explains, and Alex thinks it’s directed towards him although still doesn’t look up. 

 

“Noisy.” Alex remembers that first night in the tool shed. The weird boy who talks about entropy and plays the guitar so beautifully that his inner peace exudes from him and touches everyone lucky enough to be close to him.

 

“Yeah. It’s hard for me to stay in there too long.” Isobel’s tone is skeptical but whatever questions she may have, she keeps to herself for now.

 

The room falls silent, only the low whirring of fans invading the space, while Isobel does whatever it is she does. After several minutes of waiting, Alex hears her sharp gasp from over his shoulder followed by the sounds of sloshing liquid and desperate gulps. He watches Michael’s face for any sign of change but his features remain perfectly still. 

 

“Noah is gone. I couldn’t find him anywhere.” A few panting breaths filled the air as they all looked to Michael. “It was quieter in there this time. I think he could sense you were here.” He can feel both Liz and Isobel’s eyes on him but he resists the urge to glare back. 

 

“Why isn’t he waking up?” Alex has never been more grateful for Max Evans. 

 

“Are you guys sure it’s psychic and not physical.” His fingers tighten in Michael’s hair as thoughts of TBIs and alien caused brain tumors flood his mind. “Should we get his head scanned?”

 

“No hospitals,” the Evans’ say in creepy twin unison.

 

“Did you see anything else? Could you find Michael?” Liz steps closer to the table now. She lays a hand lightly on Michael’s arm and squeezes before drawing back.

 

“He wouldn’t talk to me.” A thin layer of frustration coats the worry in Isobel’s voice but Alex can hear it as clearly as he feels it. “I don’t think he could hear me. And there was this blonde woman with him but I have no idea who the hell she is.” 

 

An icy stab of pain pierces Alex straight through his heart and melts leaving nothing but cold weighing heavy inside of him. Michael had whispered every detail of what he’d seen on the drive home, over and over, committing to memory something Alex knew was already permanently a part of him. 

 

He ignores the chatter around him as the others wonder who the mysterious blonde could be. Of course Michael wouldn’t tell them. Of course he would shield them from the horrors the world has forced on him once again. 

 

Alex raises his other hand to rest against Michael’s chest feeling the slow and even breaths he takes. He leans down and rests his lips against the damp skin of Michael’s forehead in a way that can’t really be called a kiss. The bunker goes quiet again and he knows he will only be stirring up more questions for Michael but his mouth is already forming the words before he can overthink what he’s about to say.

 

“You need to wake up, Guerin. She’ll always be with you. That memory she gave you is a gift that nobody can take away from you. But she wanted you to live, Guerin, so you need to come back.” With a little more pressure he leaves a searing kiss before nudging his nose against his hairline. “Come back to me, Michael.”

 

In a movie this would be the moment where Michael’s eyes flutter open and instantly meet Alex’s with a loving gaze. In reality it takes a few breathless minutes before a low groan follows an arm flying up to clutch at an aching head, eyes shut tight in obvious pain. 

 

Isobel, Max, and Liz crowd closer, all of them talking at once. Alex firmly tells them to back the fuck off. It’s then that Michael’s eyes open, blinking against the overhead light but finding Alex anyway.


	18. and every color illuminates

Michael never really gave much thought to his name growing up. It was something assigned to him by the system that chewed him up and spit him out. The most generic first name they could have possibly chosen and a last name that holds no meaning to him. Two words that were nothing more than a moniker to help distinguish him from the other troubled boys in the group homes or for foster parents to shout in his face and curse under their breath.

 

Aside from the, thankfully, short lived  _ Mikey _ and the occasional  _ hey asshole _ , he’s only ever had the two names. But over the years he’s noticed the different ways people say them, the tones and inflections that make the words their own. 

 

The clipped way Sanders shouts after him, alternating first and surname, even when they’re in the same room. The enthusiastic screams of  _ Michael _ from one night stands he was sober enough to remember.  _ Guerin _ said in the annoyed and occasionally hostile tone Maria has when she’s sick of his bullshit, which is basically always. The exhausted and resigned way everyone in the Sheriff’s office greets him even after he stops being a frequent visitor.

 

He is only ever  _ Michael _ to Max and Isobel, a subtle way of ignoring the glaring detail that legally separates them. Isobel did call him by his full name once in anger which led to her freaking out for the next three hours about turning into her mother. 

 

He’s heard them say his name a thousand different ways but at the end of the day he knows what they each are truly trying to convey. Disappointment and condescension from Max, maybe an offer of support if he’s feeling generous. Affection occasionally tinged with disgust from Isobel but always with an underlying level of concern.

 

Then there is Alex. He’s only ever been  _ Guerin _ to Alex. Well, that’s not necessarily true. After a week of Alex coming to visit him in his family’s tool shed, Michael had finally asked if Alex just didn’t know his first name. Alex had smiled that beautiful smile that only ever led to confusion in Michael’s head and had given some bullshit excuse about military family habits. Michael didn’t push the issue but a few days later in that same tool shed, a breathy little  _ Michael _ became his favorite sound in the world.

 

Over the next decade no matter how hard Michael tried to bliss him out to the point of losing every last one of his military habits, Alex only said it three more times. On a cold night spent in the back of his truck, losing themselves in each other until the sun rose signaling the day Alex would leave for Afghanistan. During the one and only time Michael ever attempted a romantic gesture, making the five hour trip to Dyess to surprise Alex on his birthday only to be fucked in the alley behind a bar and sent on his way back to Roswell. 

 

The last time he heard it was that first night they were together again after Alex came home, when Michael ran his gnarled fingers over the sensitive skin of Alex’s stump with nothing but love and acceptance, and Michael was full of hope for the first time in ten years, ready to throw everything away if only Alex would keep saying his name like it was precious, like Michael was something special. 

 

Now they’re friends, friends who don’t have sex, and he is back to being nothing more than  _ Guerin _ . So he really can’t be held responsible for what happens.

 

“Michael, hurry up, I’m not losing to these idiots!”

 

Max and Liz’s cries of indignation are drowned out by the crashing of the newly purchased round of drinks slipping out of Michael’s fingers. Distantly he hears Maria cursing him out but his entire being is focused on Alex sitting at their table in oblivious confusion. 

 

Isobel is out of her seat like lightning, concerned hands shaking him from his stupor. His eyes don’t leave Alex but his tongue loosens enough to prove he’s not having a stroke. “You called me Michael.”

 

“He does know that’s his name right?” 

 

“Shut up, Kyle.”

 

Recognition sparks in Alex’s eyes but before he can make excuses or brush it off, Maria runs the yellow mop bucket into Michael’s leg, hard. 

 

“Clean it up, Guerin.” She stomps away and Isobel follows her probably in search of an angry makeout session in the storeroom. Those two aren’t fooling anybody.

 

Michael gets to work and does his best to ignore the curious gazes of his friends as well as half the bar. Heat rises in his cheeks despite his best efforts. When he’s done he wheels the mop towards the back just in time to see Isobel exit the storeroom looking entirely too pleased with herself. 

 

“Your lipstick’s smudged.” He grins at the cheeky wink she throws over her shoulder glad that she is finding some happiness for herself these days.

 

A minute later, Maria exits the closet, hair mussed and eyes a little dazed. They go wide when she sees him standing there. Without comment, he pushes the mop towards her and she yanks it back with a bit too much force.

 

“You’re paying for those glasses.” He winces under her steely glare but nods in agreement. She tilts her head to the side, face softening into something friendlier. “You want to talk about it?”

 

He shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks back onto his heels, hoping that the hallway is too dark for her to notice his blush returning. “It was stupid. He just surprised me s’all.” 

 

“Surprised by what? That Alex needed your help in trivia?” She seems truly baffled and Michael is tempted to just say yes.

 

“He said Michael. I half expected that after ten years he was too ashamed to admit he didn’t know my name.” The chuckle that forced itself from his throat around the lie is pitiful at best and Maria only looks more confused.

 

“What are you talking about? He calls you Michael all the time.” She moves to return the mop to the broom closet and he follows her.

 

“No he doesn’t.” Four times in intensely private moments does not constitute ‘all the time’ by any stretch of the imagination. 

 

Maria closes the closet door and leans her shoulder against it, staring up at him with the look she gets when she’s doing a reading. Fortunately, she told him a long time ago that he was impossible to get a read on. She whips her phone out of her back pocket and sends a quick text, shushing Michael when he tries to ask what she’s doing. 

 

Kyle rounds the corner a moment later. He approaches them with raised eyebrows and a smirk. “You rang?”

 

Maria gets right to it. “Have you ever heard Alex call him Michael?”

 

“Yes.” He drags the single syllable out obnoxiously as if the answer were obvious. “Seriously, dude, did you forget your name? You haven’t even had that much to drink.” 

 

Michael is completely bewildered by this conversation. Kyle’s right, he’s only had the one beer but he feels like he’s having an out of body experience.

 

“He’s really never called you by your first name to your face?” Maria sounds almost wounded by this notion.

 

_ Not unless he’s inside me. _ Michael has more sense than to say that out loud so he just shakes his head.

 

“That’s rough, man.” Michael rolls his eyes and shoves past Kyle, going back out into the noisy bar. 

 

Across the room his friends are laughing, teasing each other over wrong answers and trying to trip each other up. Alex sits stiffly in his chair; an island of tension in their sea of fun. He glances back towards where Michael is standing and their eyes meet, locking onto each other. Michael’s breath catches the tiniest bit and he hates himself. He steels himself and walks back to the table with his head held high.

 

“I think I’m gonna head out.” He flashes a smile that he hopes is convincing and avoids Alex’s gaze that he can feel crawling over his skin. “Before I owe Deluca for any more glasses.”

 

There is a chorus of goodbyes as everyone continues their own conversations. Michael grabs his jacket and moves swiftly towards the exit. 

 

“Guerin, wait!” Michael stops in the middle of the Pony’s parking lot, hanging his head and wishing that he was capable of just walking away. He turns slowly, swallowing the bitter taste of harsh reality.

 

Alex is standing closer than he’d anticipated and suddenly Michael wishes he’d brought his hat so he could conceal his face from the too bright street lamps before it can give too much away. 

 

Alex’s tentative smile is enough to stop him from biting his tongue. “So it’s Guerin again?” He doesn’t know why he is getting so worked up about this. Some mixture of embarrassment and his inability to stop loving the man in front of him no doubt. 

 

Alex exhales a slow breath like he’s preparing for something arduous and takes a step closer. Again, before he can say anything, Michael plunges ahead.

 

“Because according to Deluca and Valenti you have no problem saying my name. So why is it you only seem to remember it when we’re having sex or I’m not there at all?”

 

Alex looks like he’s trying hard not to scream and Michael knows he’s being a dick, but Alex is the one who followed him out here so he doesn’t feel too badly about it. He should probably just turn around and go home, forget this ever happened. 

 

“It was the last barrier I had.” At the first sign of retreat Alex is dragging him back to the front line. “Saying your name just seemed, I don’t know, too intimate? I couldn’t say it when I wasn’t ready to go all in, it felt like I was leaving myself unprotected. But I’ve always known your name, Michael.” 

 

Michael is a genius so even when Alex renders him dumb, he’s still fairly smart. His brain works to connect the dots while the echoing of his heartbeat drowns everything else out. 

 

He couldn’t say it when he wasn’t ready to go in, but he’s saying it now. 

 

Michael takes a half step closer until he can reach out and grab his hands. He doesn’t say anything, staring straight into Alex’s eyes waiting for any sign that he’s misread the situation. Alex’s gaze flickers down to his mouth in a move that Michael hasn’t seen in far too long. He has to bite down hard on his bottom lip to keep his grin under control. 

 

“Do you wanna go out to dinner on Friday? With me? On a date?” He’s leaving no room for miscommunication on this.

 

Alex looks shocked, but pleasantly so. He twines their fingers together and Michael is mesmerized by the way his face lights up, smile growing slowly. “I’d love to.”

 

Michael lifts his eyebrows expectantly. He’s waited so long, he wants to hear it again and again and again.

  
Alex rolls his eyes but uses their joined hands to tug Michael until they’re pressed chest to chest, lips inches apart. “I’d love to,  _ Michael _ .”


	19. 1x13 Coda

Michael looks up when she calls his name, the awed smile on his face slipping at the look of apprehension she can’t hide.

 

“Can we talk now?”

 

He looks sheepishly down at the guitar, something so foreign to her and a reminder that she really doesn’t know this side of him, before nodding and standing. He sets the guitar back in its stand reverently, eyes taking it in like it’s the eighth wonder of the world, something precious and holy. It’s stupid to be jealous of an inanimate object so she swallows down the uninvited emotion.

 

As soon as he is sat beside her she wastes no time. “What happened to your hand?”

 

A series of emotions form over his face in ways she can’t decipher, like trying to follow a conversation in a language you’ve never heard. Finally his features settle on something she recognizes, guilt.

 

“I can’t,” he starts, pausing to choose his words carefully. “I can’t explain it. Not now. Hopefully someday I can tell you, but just, not now.” His eyes, wider and more open than she’s ever seen them, beg her to accept this answer.

 

Maria likes to think she’s an understanding person, empathetic and not only because of her psychic abilities. She isn’t stupid though and she won’t let a pair of sad hazel eyes walk all over her. She can’t let this go, not if it’s the answer she’s been searching for.

 

“Guerin, if whatever happened to you can help my mom then you  _ have _ to tell me.” Steel coats her voice in a way she doesn’t recognize.

 

“Maria no, no.” She startles when his hands grasp onto hers. She’s thought a lot about those hands recently. Reluctantly remembering the way they feel on her skin, the strength of them when they hold her. She remembers his left hand being weaker but no less gentle. Both hands clasp hers now with equal pressure, thumbs stroking her knuckles in identical patterns.

 

“I swear, if it could help your mother’s condition I would tell you in a heartbeat.” His grip tightens as his words grow more desperate. “That’s not how it works. I promise.”

 

For the first time in nearly twenty years Maria gets a glimpse of him. What had always been a dead channel on the emotional wave of Roswell was now crackling to life, flashes of what she normally read in people peeking through.

 

Secrets swirl around him, so entwined there is no way to separate them. Floating but heavy with the weight of them, they hold him back just as much as they keep him standing.

 

“Fine, let’s talk about whatever this is that’s going on with us.” The hopeful feeling she had when he first walked in is slowly waning. She doesn’t know whether to hold tight or let go entirely. “Alex is my best and oldest friend. Did you talk to him before you came here?”

 

She gets her answer in the speed he turns his head to avoid looking at her.

 

“Alex and I are o-”

 

“Save it, Guerin.” She withdraws her hands from his, that loose grip on hope slipping even more. “I might not be able to read you but Alex is an open book and whatever you have is definitely not over.”

 

She catches the spark of  _ something _ that flashes in his averted gaze. He’s silent for a long time but she waits as patiently as she can. Finally his stare returns, radiating so much pain that it feels like a punch to her chest. Maybe that’s because she knows what’s coming.

 

“I love him.” The words hurt, but less so than she would have thought. Pain is lessened when your heart already knows the truth. 

 

With a deep breath Michael continues and she listens like the good friend she’s always been. “But so much has happened over the last ten years. Stuff I can’t even begin to unpack” His hands twitch like he wants to reach for her again but instead he slides them into his pockets, shifting back on his stool. “It hurts to be with him, and I need, I need to move on.” 

 

He looks so lost she can’t help but lean forward and hug him. A self preserving part of her yells that it’s not a good idea to touch him, not when their romantic connection is dying before it even takes its first breath. As has been the case so often in her life, self preservation is pushed aside in favor of offering comfort and protection.

 

He holds onto her, clings is more accurate, his breaths short and fast. She waits for him to settle before moving back to her stool, a safe distance between them. 

 

“I support you if that’s really what you want. But it can’t be with me.” She clears her throat, her decision is made but still hard to swallow. Michael looks sad but understanding, like he also knew where this was headed all along. Acceptance comes easily to him. His lack of fight should hurt but it only makes what she has to say easier.

 

“I care about both you and Alex and I respect myself too much to act on these feelings. I like you, Guerin. A lot, and who knows, if things were different maybe we could have been something great.” An image of the two of them in high school conjures in her mind for some reason. It’s so out of place that she quickly pushes it away. It has no place here.

 

“Maybe if you and Alex ever fall out of love,” she meant for it to come off as light and teasing but she doesn’t miss the way he flinches, and she knows then and there that day will never come. The words hang between them, cut off as abruptly as their potential relationship.

 

Michael closes his eyes, his chin dipping low towards his chest. “I’m sorry, Maria.” 

 

“Hey, no.” She waits until he’s looking at her again, shaking her head gently at the guilt still shining in his eyes. “Never apologize for how you feel.”

 

The smile he offers is thin but sincere. “So what now?”

 

Maria knows that of the two of them she has far more knowledge when it comes to navigating emotions so she has no problem taking the reins on this one.

 

“ _ Now _ ,” she succeeds in keeping a light and easy tone this time, tentative smiles growing on both of their faces, “we do that whole awkward avoiding each other thing for a while and let the feelings fade, because they will.” Now that they’ve laid everything bare she believes that, she has to. 

 

“And then, what I think we both really could use right now is a friend. Not to sound like a broken record, but you’ve been there for me a lot lately when Liz and Alex couldn’t, and selfishly I don’t want to lose that.” She places a hand on his arm, a perfectly friendly gesture. “And I want to be there for you too. I just need some time.” 

 

Michael sighs, his shoulders relax, and Maria can practically see his defenses rebuilding themselves. 

 

“Friends huh? That sounds good to me.” His cockiness is back and she hopes that her attraction to that is the first thing to fade because it really is annoying.

 

“Great,” she forms a sickly sweet smile, something familiar for them both. “Now get out of here, we’re closed.” He laughs and she can’t help but follow, the tension wrapped around them fading to the edges of the room. She wants it to stay there but there’s one more thing she needs to say. “But Guerin, I really do think you should talk to Alex. Maybe you and he-”

 

Michael doubles over so suddenly that at first she thinks he may have passed out. He’s bent in half, his hair brushing against her leg, and his hands clutching his head in obvious pain. For a second she wonders if he is faking just to avoid talking about Alex, but the long, anguished groan that fills the air is painfully real.

 

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Her hands flutter to his back, touch light and unsure.

 

As quickly as it comes the pain seems to stop and Michael rises, staring straight ahead and yet not looking at anything. Fear has stolen his color and made his eyes shine with tears. Maria doesn’t need to be able to sense what he’s feeling because it’s written all over his face. One tear makes its descent; that’s terror. Another follows for loss. The rest fall in a wave of overwhelming sadness.

 

“I have to, I have to go.” She doesn’t want to let him leave, not in the state he’s in, but before she can say anything he’s already stumbling out the door. 

 

For all of the answers they’ve just found, he is leaving her with a pile of new questions.


	20. isobel finally finding out about malex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place between 1x11 and 1x12.

“Distract me.”

 

Isobel moves so she is laying with her head in his lap, staring up at him with wide, pleading eyes. Noah is in the pod so he knows they are safe, but Michael has never seen her look more fragile, like the wrong word or touch might break her forever.

 

“I’m in love with Alex Manes.” Aside from alien conspiracies it’s the only thing that’s really been on his mind these days.

 

Isobel sits up so quickly she nearly smacks her head against his. Her scrutiny makes him squirm, knowing she can feel an echo of his apprehension. He’s never felt comfortable inside Max’s house, the four walls as welcoming as his brother, and now he feels like he’s walked into an interrogation. Thankfully, Max and Liz are still out getting food. Better to be under only one microscope than three.

 

Finding no sign of a lie in his features, Isobel reaches for his good hand, holding tight. “Since when?”

 

Michael runs his left hand across his face. He’s tired, having stayed up all night watching over Isobel and unable to sleep. This probably wasn’t the best time to be bearing his soul.

 

“Senior year.” He shrugs helplessly, as if to say here I am, the pathetic man still pining for a boy he barely knew a decade ago. 

 

He remembers every small interaction he ever had with Alex since he had moved back to Roswell at eleven years old. Every joke that earned a reaction from the kid who wore his identity loud like armor. Every eye roll or sarcastic comment from the rebel who never knew how to break a rule. A handful of small moments leading up to a truck, a guitar, and a perfect afternoon in a toolshed that rapidly dissolved into a war zone.

 

“Eleven years?” Isobel’s mouth has fallen open, soft and shaking, a wounded look in her eyes. It’s exactly the opposite reaction he’d been seeking. “And you never told me?”

 

“We weren’t together for most of that time. Not any of it really. But yeah, that’s when it started.” He smiles, trying to brush the topic aside and searching his brain for a lighter place to direct them.

 

Isobel’s grip on his hand borders on painful. “Explain.”

 

He tells her everything. What better distraction than ten years worth of backstory on Roswell’s second most fucked up relationship.

 

He tells her about the day he stole Alex’s guitar from the music room, about the simple offer of kindness that changed his life. He tells her about the tool shed, the Emporium, and Jesse Manes wielding a hammer, coming to shatter all of his hopes and dreams.

 

Isobel doesn’t interrupt him, her face reflecting all the horror and despair she is unable to put into words. He pushes on, highlighting all of Alex’s visits over the years; too rare and with too much time in between to maintain the connection they’d managed to reignite, passion and nostalgia only carrying them so far and forcing them to start over each time.

 

“But he’s home now.” Isobel can’t stop herself. “You guys have a real chance.” Her voice is so full of hope it causes his left hand to flex with a dull throb of pain.

 

“We tried again after the reunion.” He sniffs, forcing his eyes to look away from the eager look shining in hers. “He called it off after a couple days. I didn’t see him for a few months and when I did he made it clear he wasn’t gonna change his mind.”

 

He leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. Everything else was too recent, too messy and complicated which is hilarious when you consider their history.

 

“That night I hooked up with Maria Deluca in Texas.” He ignores Isobel’s gasp, too dramatic and hungry for gossip. “Next morning Alex shows up at the junkyard. He knows about Maria and doesn’t care. He knows we’re aliens and doesn’t care. He wants to get to know me and start over as  _ friends _ .” He shakes his head, unwilling to tell her any more about that conversation or the half dozen text conversations they’ve had since that day.

 

Quiet replaces his voice in filling the room making his skin prickle in discomfort when he remembers where they are. He’s surprised Max and Liz haven’t returned but assumes they pulled off on the side of the road for a quickie like the desperate teenage lovers they never got a chance to be.

 

Isobel reaches to take his hand again, drawing his attention back to her. “He obviously still wants you Michael, so what’s stopping you? If you have a chance at love,  _ real _ love,” for one horrifying second he thinks she’s about to burst into tears and he realizes he’s probably done a shit job of distracting her from Noah. “You shouldn’t waste it.”

 

“I know he wants me, Is.” That’s never been an issue. Alex wouldn’t come back to him time and time again if he didn’t. “I also know he doesn’t want to want me.” And like a plaintive walking embodiment of the Cheap Trick classic he’s desperate for that to not be the case. It is though and he just needs to accept it. Alex’s attempts at friendship aren’t making that any easier.

 

“I don’t think that’s true. In fact, I refuse to believe it.” Michael can’t help but smile. If the three of them ever actually wanted to take over this planet, he’s positive Isobel could with nothing but her determination and stubborn will alone.

 

If Max and Michael ever had a telepathic connection it is nearly non existent these days but he still tries to reach out and tell his brother to get his ass home before Isobel orchestrates a flash mob.

 

“Believe what you want. It’s over.” His throat tightens around the admission making it hard to swallow. It doesn’t matter if it’s with a bang or a whimper, the world still ends.


	21. "Nobody’s seen you in days."

“Nobody’s seen you in days.” 

 

Alex ignores Kyle, ignores the way he carelessly walks into the cabin uninvited, ignores the way he stares at him like Alex is the saddest thing he’s ever seen. Instead he focuses on the steel wire pressing perfectly into the well worn calluses on his fingertips as he continues to play his old guitar with a series of random chords that still manage to make more sense than his life these days.

 

“Oh god, you’re not writing country songs now are you?” Kyle moves to stand where Alex can see him from the corner of his eye. “Because I don’t think there’s much of a market for  _ My Alien Boyfriend Flew Away on His Ship and Left Me All Alone with My Dog _ .”

 

Alex turns a glare on him that has made stronger men crumble, his jaw clenching and fingers tightening around the neck of the guitar. “What do you want, Valenti?”

 

Kyle moves to the couch, lifting an empty pizza box as well as the beer bottles underneath. They were Michael’s that Alex had taken from the airstream. They tasted like shit but he wasn’t about to let them go to waste.

 

“Liz and Maria were worried about you.” He sits, turned in to face Alex directly. “I mean, I told them that you were probably just sitting alone in your cabin being pathetic, and look,” Kyle waves his hands around the small, messy room, “I was right.”

 

Alex sets the guitar down harder than he means to before reaching for his crutches. He appreciates what Kyle is doing, trying to get under his skin and get a reaction rather than coddle him like Liz or Maria would. That doesn’t mean he has to sit there and listen to him. He heads to the kitchen to refill Nova’s water bowl, awkwardly crouching on one leg to scratch behind her ears when she waddles out of the bedroom on her little legs.

 

“Great, so you can report back that I’m alive and that people should take the hint and leave me alone.” He leans back into the main room, giving Kyle a pointed look. He isn’t surprised to find Kyle has removed his jacket and is already cleaning up Alex’s mess.

 

Alex leaves him to it and goes into his bedroom to slide his prosthetic back on. He’s going to need his hands free if he has to physically shove Kyle out the front door. 

 

“Sorry, bro.” Kyle glances up from tying off a trash bag when Alex re-enters the room. “Three days is enough wallowing.”

 

Alex makes a pained noise in the back of his throat, feels the telltale itch behind his eyes signaling the tears he’s grown used to are about to make another appearance. “He left the  _ planet _ . I think that justifies at least a week of wallowing.” He can’t think past that, can’t imagine what life in Roswell will look like without Michael.

 

Kyle sighs, hands moving to his hips causing the bottles in the trash bag to clink together as they hit his leg, and looks at Alex like he’s a child throwing a tantrum. “You do remember that he said he’d be back, right.” Kyle rolls his eyes as he adopts a ridiculous accent in a horrible impression of Michael. “One year as a space cowboy and then I’m comin’ home, don’t expect a postcard.”

 

“You do remember it’s fucking space, right?” Alex snaps back, the tears blurring his vision a little more. “He’s in a spaceship he cobbled together from a bunch of spare parts he found at the junkyard and a seventy year old alien console no one knows how to operate. Anything could happen in a fucking year and I never even told him I still love him.” He chokes around the lump in his throat, hanging his head as tears start to fall. 

 

“Oh shit.” Kyle sets the bag down before taking the steps to close the distance between them. He wraps his arms around Alex in a tight hug and Alex leans into the comfort of an old friendship made new. Nova trots out from the kitchen to bump her nose against his left leg before laying her head across his shoe in solace. “Listen, I hate to admit it, but Guerin is the smartest guy I know.” Kyle leans back, hands resting on Alex’s shoulders and giving him a firm shake. “He wouldn’t take off unless he was sure it was safe. Dude’s impatient but he’s also an annoying perfectionist when it comes to this stuff. You just gotta have a little faith.”

 

Alex laughs low and mirthless. Faith wasn’t a luxury he’d carried over into his adult life. It had been chipped away slowly, first by his father’s fists and then his mother’s feet as they walked away. Ten years in the military fighting in wars he didn’t really believe in had made him a realist, full of cynicism and distrust, and any last remnants of hope for humankind had burned up inside an abandoned prison. 

 

But for Michael? For Michael he would dig into the deepest recesses of his soul and find some.

 

He nods and raises his hands to wipe away the tears with the sleeves of his sweatshirt. Michael is in space, but Michael is coming back. Michael is coming home. Michael is coming back to Alex. He’ll repeat it as many times as it takes even if that means every second of the next 362 days.

 

“Awesome. Ok,” Kyle steps back over to the trash bag, picking it up and heading for the front door. “Go get dressed, we’re going to The Pony. Maria will give you free drinks and you can help me and Liz figure out what the hell is going on between her and Isobel.” 

  
Before Alex can ask any questions about  _ that _ situation, Kyle is already out the door. He takes a deep breath.  _ Michael is in space. _ And another.  _ Michael will come back. _ With a final slow exhale he turns to go back into his bedroom, Nova darting between his legs to lead the way. Kyle’s right, it’s time to leave the cabin and rejoin society. The world keeps turning and every revolution is another day closer to Michael coming home.


	22. “If I die, I’m haunting you first.”

“If I die, I’m haunting you first.” A small huff of laughter passes through Michael’s lips, carrying the words far enough to reach Alex. They don’t have to travel far. Alex is so close, practically on top of him, and the proximity drags memories of the past back into the forefront of his mind confusing his fading consciousness.

“Deal.” Alex pushes harder on Michael’s abdomen where a seemingly endless supply of thick, dark blood continues to escape. “I can accept that because you are not going to die, Guerin.” Alex grits his teeth as he applies bruising force on the wound. 

Michael screams.

He places his shaking hand over both of Alex’s, his voice soft. “You know that’s, ow,” Michael pauses, his train of thought distracted by the sudden hiss of a tire rapidly losing air. He realizes belatedly that it is his own breath. He no longer has feeling in his lips. “You know that’s not likely.” 

“Shut up.” Alex hasn’t looked him in the eye in minutes and that more than anything tells Michael he knows he’ll probably be sharing the room with a corpse before too long. Alex has seen far too much in the field to not know how this ends.

“Alex,” Michael whispers, the two syllables becoming three with the hitch of his breath. He lifts his other hand, skin clean of scars but fingers once again clumsy and useless, to touch the tense line of muscle in Alex’s jaw. “I overheard Maria and Is saying they should, they should lock us in a room to figure out our shit.” He pauses, as much for dramatic effect as to catch his breath. “I don’t think this is what they had in mind.”

Alex finally meets his gaze, his mouth falls open with a silent cry. His eyes are two endless black holes absorbing all the pain and fear between them and reflecting it back tenfold. Michael wants nothing more than to use what little air he has left to breathe warmth and happiness back into them. 

Neither says anything, never any good with words. Set to his unsteady shallow breaths and the erratic beats of his heart, images jump before his eyes like old film flickering through a pantomime of his downfall. Flint’s gun drawn in an instant. Michael’s body throwing itself without hesitation between Alex and a bullet. The ground rising to meet him and strong hands easing the collision. Alex being dragged away from him as his brother wrestled the prosthetic from his leg. The solid steel door slamming shut, separating them from the outside world.

Alex had managed to drag them across the room to lean them against the door but there was no way he could override the high tech locking mechanism while also holding Michael’s body together with his hands. Michael wishes he’d chosen the door, bought himself enough time to get out of here before Flint could call for backup. But Alex would never leave a man behind, even if it was only Michael, the man perpetually disappointing him.

“So much I wanna tell you. Can’t remember any of it right now.” Michael’s wheezing breath is drowned out by Alex’s broken sob. “Except I love you, that’s the big one.”

“Stop,” Alex cries desperately. Michael thinks he may find strength to apply even more pressure but he can barely feel it now. “You’re not doing this now. You’re going to tell me that later and I’m not saying it back until then.”

“Yeah?” Michael knows there won’t be a later, that Alex won’t get a chance to say the words Michael wishes he could hear in that low, warm tone one final time. He wants the words but he’ll settle for the knowledge that they were there waiting for him. It’s the one thing Michael wants to carry with him on his journey back to the stars.

The world goes dark for hardly more than a second but the sound of his name pulls him back toward the light. Michael never thought heaven was real, never had a reason to, but he thinks that’s where he has found himself. Soft, golden light shines down upon a smiling angel. 

“Mom?” Not heaven, he realizes. There is a dull throb of pain in his chest when he speaks. He is still aware of his body lying cold and heavy surrounded by the smell of blood and dry, stale air. Though he never believed in it, he’s sure heaven wouldn’t feel like this. 

“Michael! Hey, stay with me, Michael.” He’s still alive and his mom is here looking just as young and beautiful as the image she had placed in his mind, her smile still bright but tinged with a knowing sadness. Her voice is nothing like what he’s imagined these last few months but it fills him with warmth that, while not physical, still wraps around him like an old, well loved blanket. As she speaks, her lips never move and Michael is sad that he didn’t live long enough to figure out telepathy. That would have been fun.

“Mom, I’m-” A deep, wet cough prevents any words he might have said. The taste of blood coats his tongue. He holds his hand up between them, fingers splayed wide, a silent request. With the same wide eyes and and unwavering smile, she glances briefly between his hand and down to where his life continues to leave his body in waves of red. It doesn’t feel like he remembers when she slides her fingers between his, her hands warm, sticky, and silent. Still, there is a familiarity that comforts him and somehow he knows everything is going to be alright.

“You’ve just gotta hold on a little longer.” The shattered sound of her voice doesn’t match the lovely glow of her features. Something is wrong, something isn’t adding up, but he doesn’t have the energy to solve any more mysteries. “Max and Isobel will be here soon. You’re going to lead them straight to us and one of them will fix you right up. You’re going to be fine.” Her fingers tighten their hold when his own go limp, maintaining their connection and locking him in the moment.

“But I wanna go with you.” He never thought he would get a chance to see her again and now that he has it’s just like before, he doesn’t want to let her go.

Loud, harsh sobs echo all around them. Michael blinks and for a moment it’s Alex above him looking broken and terrified. Michael has little control or feeling at this point, but for those few seconds every part of his dying body aches to protect Alex with a fierceness he has carried close to his heart for years.

“Don’t wanna leave Alex.” The idea is suddenly ridiculous. He could never leave Alex behind, that would mean looking away forever and he’d made a promise, if only to himself, that he’d never do that. He doesn’t think he knows how.

His mom doesn’t move but he feels a soft and gentle touch caressing his cheek. It’s faint like a memory but he knows it’s real.

“Then don’t,” she whispers. “Stay with him, he loves you so much, Michael.” The thought is pleasant and perfect, infusing warmth into the spaces that have gone cold long before the blood loss. 

“I think you’d like him, mom.” 

Everything slowly begins to go dark, fading softly around the edges, like someone turned a dimmer switch on the world. He hasn’t moved but he thinks he must be underwater, sounds moving further away and his body floating weightless, removed from everything. He hears his mother shouting for him to open his eyes. He didn’t even know they were closed. 

Even behind his eyelids her smile is still the brightest thing he has ever seen, but just like everything else it disappears and all that’s left is a vast, endless black.


	23. catastrophe it reigns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a follow up to last chapter, "If I die, I’m haunting you first."

His eyes don’t open. Alex stares down at Michael’s halcyon features, the order to open his eyes now a desperate plea whispered repeatedly through unrestrained sobs.

 

Alex continues to apply pressure where the bullet tore through Michael’s skin. There is so much blood it is hard to tell if any still flows from his body. Dried on his hands and flaking away to reveal skin stained with a part of Michael he doubts will ever fade. Pooled beneath them, seeping through his jeans, through the sleeve covering his stump.

 

His fingers slide over cold cheeks, painting the pale skin red. Alex takes a deep breath to calm the racing of his own heart as he seeks proof that Michael’s still beats. When your heart has beat alongside another for so long, how are you meant to distinguish the two?

 

Finally he locates a pulse, as slow and uneven as the breaths Michael took when he thought he was speaking to his mother. The final gasping breaths released around words that felt too much like goodbye. Alex ignores all of his training and inveterate survival instincts, and lets the rest of the world fade to white noise. Michael’s heartbeat becomes his sole focus, his mission simple, keep Michael alive until Max and Isobel arrive, because they were on their way, they had to be.

 

Alex misses the muffled footsteps marching quickly down the hallway. He doesn’t hear the steady beeping of a code being entered. It isn’t until the door behind him falls away that he notices they aren’t alone.

 

Panic gives way to exaltation when he watches Isobel climbing over them, weaving herself into their tangled mess of limbs and wasting no time. Alex quickly moves his hand off of the wound to give her space. He glances up to where he can sense Max looming over them, just in time to see Flint turn and calmly walk away. His body tenses, always ready for a fight even when he’s not.

 

“It’s fine. Isobel got to him. He’ll just be waiting at the entrance.” Max barely spares a glance at Alex but offers a tight smile in a weak illusion of reassurance.

 

Mouth dry and cheeks wet, Alex follows Max’s lead and turns his eyes back to Michael. “I thought she couldn’t control minds?”

 

“She can’t. There must have been a part of him that wanted to help.” Max speaks as if he’s unaware of the loaded implications in that sentence that Alex can’t even begin to make sense of right now.

 

Max silently passes Alex his prosthetic and he sets it gently off to the side, not removing the firm press of his fingertips from Michael’s pulse point. He wants to feel it for himself, needs to feel the exact moment when Michael comes back to him. He uses the weak flutters to count the seconds that pass as Isobel works, time moving slower than normal as he waits.

 

“It’s not working!” Isobel cries, tears streaming down her face, shaking hands covered in blood. Time hasn’t been slowing down, Michael’s heart has. “Max, he needs both of us.”

 

Alex shifts a little to the right to room but Max doesn’t move from where he continues to stand in the open doorway. His eyes, shining with unshed tears, stay on Michael and his face twists in pain, but still he doesn’t step forward.

 

“Is,” he looks at his sister, his head tilted in a way that conveys sorrow, remorse,  _ defeat _ . “We swore we wouldn’t bring anyone else back, it’s too dangerous. He made us swear we wouldn’t, we wouldn’t...he’s  _ gone _ .”

 

The last word, whispered on a broken breath, is all the fuel Alex needs to launch himself to his foot, balancing by slamming his weight hard against Max’s tall, broad frame. The impact with the steel door is met with a pained grunt that Alex can’t even find satisfying. One glance at Isobel tells him he’s not alone in his disgust.

 

“His heart is still beating, asshole.” The tremble in his voice belies the harsh words. “And if it stops, that’s on you.”

 

There is so much more he wants to say, about how Michael spent months bending and breaking his mind to find a way to bring Max back, how he never once gave up on his brother, how Max has broken promises and gone against nature to save the people he loves more than once, but before he can find a way to articulate any of the myriad of reasons why Max Evans is once again wrong, he is back on the floor, Max now crouched beside him. Alex takes a moment to secure the prosthetic back on his leg, the vulnerability he feels without it something he can’t handle in this situation. His hands perform the rote task blindly, allowing his eyes to never leave the scene playing out only inches away.

 

Hands glow, lights flicker, pale skin turns golden.

 

Alex takes his first full breath in nearly an hour only when he hears Michael do the same. His eyes remain closed but despite the blood it is clear he is now only asleep, his chest rising and falling with every blissful breath.

 

“He’ll wake up soon,” Isobel tells him with a light touch to his arm, her own breathing harsh and ragged in her recovery. Always one step ahead of the rest of them, she rises tremulously to her feet. “As soon as he does, you two get out of here. We’ll be right behind you but we shouldn’t leave all of this blood.  _ Max _ , come with me.” Her voice turns sharp, takes on a dark quality as she tugs her brother to his feet by his collar, shoving him out the door.

 

Once they’re out of sight, Alex reclaims his place leaning over Michael. His hands have an agenda of their own, sliding into blood matted curls, brushing over his brow, his cheeks, his throat, touching him anywhere they can. Michael’s skin vibrates with life, that chaos inside of him stirring up a kinetic energy even while at rest.

 

Fingers gently wrap around his wrist, Michael’s head dipping to press a slow, tender kiss on his palm, his eyes opening and locking onto Alex immediately. Alex can’t contain a bright spark of laughter as relief floods his veins. He helps Michael sit up, resting their foreheads together briefly.  _ Later _ , the gesture promises.

 

“Come on,” Alex whispers, voice rough. He licks his dry lips and tastes the residual salt from his tears. “We need to go.”

 

They help each other stand, doing their best to avoid stepping in the pool of blood at their feet. Michael winces at the sight but grabs Alex’s hand and keeps moving forward. They’ve only made it a few steps out the door when Max and Isobel round a corner, cleaning supplies in hand. Isobel runs, nearly tackling Michael with the force of her hug which he gladly returns. He still keeps one hand wrapped around Alex’s.

 

“Go, go,” Isobel urges, stepping away and swiping at her tears with the back of her hand. “We’ll come find you when we’re done.” She nudges them toward the exit before ducking back into the room.

 

Michael approaches Max, his free hand coming up to pat him on the shoulder twice before withdrawing, the only sign of affection either of them are ever comfortable offering the other. “Thanks for saving me.” Michael’s smile is small but genuine.

 

Max’s eyes land on Alex for a moment before looking away with a flare of regret. He looks at Michael and simply nods, his own smile forced past his guilt. “Go on, get out of here,” he says over his shoulder on his way to join Isobel.

 

Michael hesitates, glancing at the open door, clearly unsure about leaving his siblings behind in a facility where he was just shot. Alex uses their linked hands to tow Michael along, only stopping as the front entrance comes into sight. Flint stands at attention to the left of the doors, staring forward at nothing in particular. Alex squeezes Michael’s hand while his brain works out a backup plan should things go south. He’s disarmed Flint before, he can do it again.

 

Together, they take tentative steps toward the doors, neither of them feeling particularly dauntless out in the open as they are. Flint doesn’t move once as they approach and it’s that detail which unsettles Alex the most and keeps him on high alert in anticipation of a possible attack. It isn’t until they are standing right next to him, air trapped in their lungs, that Flint angles his head to look at them, a cordial smile curving his lips, his eyes viewing them as nothing more than harmless strangers.

 

“Have a good night. Drive safe,” he says before returning his gaze to the opposite wall. Alex’s paranoia kicks in, wondering if this could be a trap, if their car has been sabotaged, if they are really going to just walk out into the cool desert air with no repercussions. He doesn’t let himself relax until they’re in Michael’s truck and headed for the interstate. Even then, he keeps one eye trained on the side mirror and the long stretch of road they leave in their wake.

 

“I love you.”

 

Alex whips his head around so fast he thinks it might do a complete 360. Michael’s eyes are focused on the road but wide with hope that Alex will make good on his earlier promise.

 

“I love you too.” Michael beams, doing absolutely nothing to hide the joy those words bring him. He looks over at Alex for a second, his face so open and alive that Alex wants to cry again. Instead, he leans across the limited space separating them and rests his forehead on Michael’s shoulder, letting the knowledge that he is here and alive calm the growing storm inside him.

 

He wraps himself in Michael’s warmth, something more than just heat, a fire forged from strength, passion, and overwhelming goodness. That hum of life still buzzing beneath the surface electrifies Alex everywhere they touch. He sighs Michael’s name, his own private thank you to the universe, against the fabric of his shirt when Michael drops a kiss on the top of his head with more gentleness than he’s felt in a long time. These are what he almost lost today and they are what he’s never letting go of again.


	24. three sentence prompt: malex in the cabin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is only a three sentence fic but I liked the way it turned out so it gets its own chapter.

The first night Michael spends at the cabin it becomes painfully obvious that he has become accustomed to living small.

So much open space filled with shadows creeping beneath the closed door, a wide expanse separating him from Alex in the too large bed, artificial heat humming loud in his ears and rendering the pile of blankets covering them all but useless.

Michael was adaptive, always had been, and he knew he could get used to these things, but for tonight he slides across the bed, curling himself around a sleeping Alex until all there is are warm, steady breaths and cool, soft skin, and  _Alex Alex Alex_.


	25. “Am I your lock screen?” “You weren’t supposed to see that”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From the how to lose a guy in 10 days au I’ve literally never mentioned before.

“Am I your lock screen?”

 

Michael turns his phone against his chest and away from Alex’s prying eyes. He bends his smile into something sheepish and peeks up through his eyelashes, the picture of innocence. “You weren’t supposed to see that.”

 

Alex shifts until his body is pressed close against Michael’s side, his arm resting on the back of the couch behind Michael’s head, fingertips brushing the ends of his curls.

 

“Is that from that day out on Foster’s Ranch?” The mere allusion to their hometown in that smooth as silk voice is enough to transport Michael back to that day. Young, stupid, with a heart full of unrequited feelings he couldn’t make sense of until the moment had already passed.

 

The way Alex is looking at him, mouth curved with a knowing smirk, eyes warm yet noticeably darker and now fixated on Michael’s lips; it all serves to make him feel eighteen again, full of regret over opportunities lost to bad timing and war. Alex bites his lower lip, eyes making a slow journey to meet Michael’s. Warmth pools low in his gut and the noise and chaos that usually pull his attention in a hundred different directions fades away in favor of Alex.

 

He needs to regain control of the evening before he ruins the whole plan and with it his career.

 

“Yeah, it is.” The words settle deep and husky between them, a long way from the coy tone he had adopted earlier in the evening. “Isobel took it. She gave it to me for graduation.”

 

He unlocks his phone to show Alex the photo. Their small group of friends had cut class for Senior Ditch Day and, with nothing better to do in Roswell, had driven out to old Foster’s Ranch. Alex brought his guitar and Michael had managed to snag one from the music room. The photograph reflected exactly how most of the afternoon had played out, Alex playing guitar and Michael watching him, mesmerized.

 

“I always knew I was gonna find my way back to you.” Michael makes sure the words come out serious, coloring the quelled hope of the last decade with the fierce confidence he longs for. There is a fine line between the game he’s playing and being labeled a stalker and he walks it very carefully.

 

Alex’s grin turns sharp, his eyes light up with a fire that warms Michael from the inside. “Oh you did, did you?” He moves forward, swinging one leg over both of Michael’s and settling himself in his lap. His arms form a cage of sinewy, toned muscle and Michael will happily live out the rest of his days in captivity.

 

One hand snakes its way into his hair, fingers grasping at curls and forcing his head back with a gasp. He has just enough time to think that this is the exact opposite reaction he had been aiming for, before Alex’s mouth is on his. Alex licks and bites his way into Michael’s mouth. The kiss tastes like cheap beer and teenage dreams, the earlier nostalgia begot of a beloved photo exploding to life between them, releasing something electric into the air. It draws a whimpering noise Michael isn’t sure he’s ever made before from deep in his throat.

 

Michael wraps his arms around Alex’s waist, hands on his lower back insistent as they tug him closer. As day three bleeds into the fourth, Michael vows to double his efforts tomorrow to get the job done, no matter the cost. Tonight is just for him.


End file.
